


More And Less

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, Angst, First Times, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-07
Updated: 2000-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 58,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim Ellison escapes one evening, for some peace and quiet, he is unprepared for what he finds - or who - and has no idea how that discovery will profoundly change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm back. Kicking and screaming, perhaps, but back nonetheless. Truth is, these guys just wouldn't leave me alone. Tough life, eh?
> 
> As a 'coming out of retirement' story, I think this is fitting. Yes, of course there's angst here - wouldn't be me otherwise - but I like to think it's a nicer kind of angst. Oh, and there's way too much love and sex for it to be truly angsty. Kind of like my holiday from angst, if you will. 
> 
> First, thank you to Rie for all the help and encouragement. Sorry I

This story has been split into four part for easier loading.

## More And Less

by Jack Reuben Darcy

Author's webpage: <http://internetdump.com/users/angiet>

Author's disclaimer: I gave up disclaimers for my New Year's Resolution.

didn't have time to pass this one by your skilled eye. Next time, I promise. 

Secondly, a huge thank you to Kadru for helping me iron out more than a few wrinkles. Without your help, I doubt this story would have been finished. 

I'm breaking in a new beta reader, so any mistakes are entirely mine. 

This story is for all my friends on IRC. You know, the guys who wouldn't stop hounding me to start writing again. I don't dare name them for fear of being sued. And no, I'm not chicken. 

I warn you, though, feedback will only encourage me to write more - so be careful what you wish for.

* * *

More and Less - part one  
By Jack Reuben Darcy 

Part One 

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,  
Injurious distance should not stop my way  
For then, despite of space I would be brought  
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay 

Sonnet 44  
Shakespeare 

Lines of printed words covered the page before him, all neat and black and full of the kinds of things he was so interested in. But tonight, they all ran into one another, creating a seamless menagerie of meanings at odds with his mood of late. 

Restless, Blair stood and went into the kitchen. Chamomile tea, that's what he needed. But even as he put the kettle on, his feet longed to pace, to move, to go and expend energy. He stopped by the little window and peered down into the park. Only a few streetlights illuminated the frost-bitten patch of green. A man was walking with a dog on a lead and it was the silence more than anything else which reached Blair above. The silence and the emptiness. 

That's what the books felt like to him now. Empty. Where had his hunger gone? 

Perhaps it was the pressure getting to him. His advisor, Professor Peters had been at him for the last month, insisting that he commit to an alternative research subject, to give up his endless search for a full sentinel. Sure, Blair had tried to explain that statistically speaking, with all the other partial sentinels he'd found in his travels, there had to be at least one with all five senses heightened - but Peters was interested in results, in Blair doing some visible work on his thesis, on being able to produce something that would attract more funding for the university. Didn't he know how much faith had been placed in him, how highly the Board viewed his achievements so far, how much was expected of him? 

The kettle began whistling and with a sigh, he switched the gas off but stopped short of making the tea. 

Why the hell couldn't he settle? 

He'd been a student for so many years now he'd thought he'd seen every side to his compulsion to contribute. But just lately, that urge seemed to have outgrown his ability to deliver. Too often, he'd become impatient with the slow process of research, of simply gathering information when really, none of it appeared to be what he was looking for. 

So, what _was_ he looking for? 

There was no doubt that even now, with his thesis in it's early stages, he was already the world's foremost authority on sentinels - but what good did that do without a real one to hand? What was the point of knowing about something without being able to apply the knowledge? And without application, he would never see results for all his work. 

Of course, that wasn't his job - but lately, the role of pure researcher felt way too limiting, conflicting with this inner urge to _do_ rather than just simply observe and record. He had all this knowledge, all these skills - and nothing else. 

All his life he'd been consumed with this hunger, this drive to absorb information, feeding a mind more than ready to receive it. More than once he'd been told that it was that hunger as much as his natural intelligence which had brought him this far. For so long, he had let it become his life, let it fill him, finding his meanings sitting on the written page, giving his life substance and weight. And it had seemed so right, so fitting, so fucking easy and so hard and so challenging that he'd been unable to notice the moment when the fire had begun to die down. 

He was still hungry - but he no longer knew what would appease his appetite. 

Restlessness forced his feet to pacing again. Peters hadn't been too impressed with Blair's attitude - and with reason. His temper had gotten the better of him, some blind, half-buried desire to be heard and understood beating the words out of him almost to the point of rudeness. 

Perhaps he just needed to get away, take the next opportunity for some fieldwork that came his way, remind himself why he was in this game. Perhaps if he separated himself from libraries for a while and focussed on what anthropology was really about, he might find some outlet for all this suppressed ... _need_. 

No. 

Running away wasn't going to fix anything. Avoiding the issue for a year or so would only leave it waiting for him when he got back. And in the meantime, a full sentinel could come along and he would have missed his opportunity. 

Shaking his head, he turned back into the living room where his cluttered desk filled a corner by the window. He stood beside it for a moment, his fingers touching the pile of books he was supposed to be reading \- but for the life of him, he simply couldn't face sitting down again tonight. 

No, tonight, he needed to just get out. 

Yeah. 

A grin spread across his face and without giving it another thought, he turned, grabbed his coat and keys and left all thoughts of study and work behind him. 

* * *

Jim drove to the older part of town where the streets were more narrow and less populated, where few cars passed and nobody he knew would find him. For more than an hour, he simply turned one corner after another in something of a daze, not really caring whether he found somewhere to stop or not. It was peaceful enough in the truck; he was alone with only the radio rumbling in the background and the memories of sullen voices, coldness and apathy began to fade a little. 

Everything else was fine. For the moment. 

Some light rain sprinkled down, setting his windscreen alive with tiny stars, obscuring his vision only a little. People on the street hurried their pace, anxious to get out of it before it could become heavier. Jim could have told them not to bother. It would stop in a minute. 

At least, it felt like that. 

He pulled up at a traffic light and glanced at the shop windows to his left. In darkness, the glass made a mirror for him, displaying the blue and white truck in muted colours, his own shape inside, solitary, rigid and equally muted as though his existence had become suppressed by force he couldn't see. 

He blinked at his image and turned back to the lights. The moment they turned green, he drove on. 

He should never have agreed to it. Never have said he would go along with it. He'd done so out hope, expecting something of friendship to remain afterwards, expecting the sacrifice to have a mutual reward somewhere along the line. But he'd been wrong and now it was too late to go back on it, not without appearing to be the liar that he was - even if the lie wasn't his, even if he'd done it for the best reasons. Even if it was all over and it didn't really matter a damn any more. 

Even if he had to live with a lie. 

He drove on, allowing the mechanical movement of controlling the truck to soothe and calm him. 

Over the last few months, this had become almost a hobby, his sole means of pacing his mind into quiet tremors which could hurt nobody. People had started to notice something was wrong - but hopefully it would still be some time before the usual questions were asked. And hopefully even longer before the more dangerous questions emerged. If ever. 

He shuddered at the thought. He'd seen too many cops go the same way. He'd always believed he would never be among their number. _He_ had always had firm control on his life and everything within it. Now however, he was no longer on the sidelines. Now the loss of control had embedded itself into almost every aspect of his life and only on these night drives could he feel any sense of freedom, experience any sense of self, of who he really was behind all the mess. However, he would still have to return home at the end of his drive, return and face what he'd become, what he'd lost - what he faced in his future. 

A future that terrified him. 

He turned again, this time into a street he hadn't been down before. It was virtually deserted but he drove slowly all the same. He was in no hurry. He was just using up time, nothing more. Using up energy, hoping that tonight, unlike all those other nights, he'd be able to sleep without the nightmares, without some insane sensory hallucination haunting him. 

A faint neon light flashed towards the end of the street. He squinted into the distance, the pale pink lettering leaving streaky lines on the wet windshield. Barnies. A bar. Yeah, that's what he needed - a beer. 

It wasn't beer that caused it, either. A year ago, when he'd first started having these . . . crazy turns . . . he'd tested just about everything he ate, used and wore, hoping, sure, in the beginning, that he was just having some bizarre reaction to something. Failure to find a cause had left him depressed - but at least able to take the simple pleasure of a brew. 

He pulled the truck into the car park and got out. He could hear no blaring music from within which only encouraged him to enter. The door stuck as little as he pushed it and almost immediately a blast of warm air hit him. The place was dark and cozy. Maybe a dozen regulars dotted around the place. There was a juke box in the corner, but it was quiet; he could only just make out the strains of a Dusty Springfield song. 

Yeah. This was exactly what he needed. Something horribly normal. 

Relaxing more every minute, he wandered up to the bar and took a stool. He ordered a beer and as he waited, he glanced around. Booth tables lined one wall, the bar against the other. In the back was a pool table where a couple of guys were ensconced in a game. Even from here he could see the dollar bills sitting on the side of the table - a small and inconsequential bet he could afford to ignore. Other than that, there were a couple of other men further down the bar, engaged in quiet conversation, two couples lounging in a booth - and that seemed about it. So much the better. Nobody would expect him to talk. 

Nobody would expect him to be anything other than what he seemed. 

His beer arrived and he took a sip, his tastebuds rising to the bitter flavour he'd craved. He couldn't help the wave of relief which swept over him; some days he couldn't begin to guess which sense would fly off the handle - or when. 

The beer was half gone before he glanced around again, his gaze resting on the only activity in the room - the pool game. The player at the table was a big guy, tall and broad, with the bearing of a truck driver. He was hunched over the table, his face screwed up with concentration as he took his shot. A faint click and a ball rolled away from him, dropping into a corner pocket. His companion complimented the shot and stepped back out of the way as the bigger man lined up the next. 

Jim turned his attention to the other player, a faint smile drifting across his face as he calculated the differences between them. The second man was much smaller, not short exactly - but definitely younger. He seemed to have longish hair, tied back out of his face. He wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt, tucked in. Some faint flash of light in his left ear suggested an earring or two. From here, he barely looked old enough to drink legally. 

The game continued - but the big guy's next shot missed, so the young guy took his turn. With a friendly shrug at his opponent, he proceeded to clear the table of balls with one deft shot after another. When he was done, he straightened up and held out his hand. The big man grunted, shook it and made for the bar. The dollar bills disappeared into the young man's pocket and he set about racking up another game. 

The big man stopped at the bar beside Jim, stomped one foot down on the railing, leaned his weight on his elbow and ordered a beer. This seemed to be the kind of place that only sold beer - and one kind at that. Domestic. 

"The kid's pretty sharp." The words were out before Jim could stop himself \- ignoring every reason he'd come in here in the first place. He didn't want conversation - he wanted quiet. Even so, the big guy turned a dry gaze on him. 

"Sure is. I know when I'm whipped." 

"Beaten you before, has he?" 

"Twice tonight. I'm not playing again. Can't have the little faggot taking all my beer money, can I?" This was said without rancor and Jim smiled. 

"Perhaps I should teach him a lesson." 

The big guy frowned, glanced over to the pool table then back at Jim. "Hey, man, don't go bruising the kid just 'cause he's queer. He don't mean no harm." 

"Oh, no," Jim shook his head, "No, I mean with a game." 

"Oh," the man grinned, showing off a gap in his front teeth. "Yeah, you look like you could afford to lose a few bucks. Be my guest. And don't let the hair and earrings fool you - he may be queer, but he knows his game." 

Jim couldn't help the chuckle which floated up from his chest. This, strangely enough, was exactly the kind of company he'd been looking for, straightforward, down to earth - even though he hadn't known it. He picked up his beer and stood, "You know him?" 

"Nah, not really. Comes in here two, maybe three times a week. Plays a few games then disappears." The man took a healthy swallow of his beer and nodded at Jim again, "Go on. I wanna see somebody else get whupped for a change." 

"Right." Jim left the bar and made for the pool table. The kid was picking off practice shots and only stopped when Jim placed a ten dollar bill down on the table. 

The young man straightened up then, his gaze lifting from the cash slowly until it met Jim's. Huge blue eyes regarded him steadily, sizing him up in a way that reminded him of his days in the army. The measuring of an opponent, gathering necessary intel before engaging. Jim could only smile. 

"Hey, man. Willing to lose ten bucks, eh?" The kid grinned suddenly. 

Jim shrugged, "I can afford to be over-confident. But if it's too much ..." 

"No, no, it's cool. Take a cue." 

With efficient hands, the kid put all the balls back on the table, filling the rack before positioning it over the mark. Jim grabbed a cue and chalked the end, catching the white ball as it was rolled over the green felt towards him. 

The kid waved him forward, "Challenger breaks." 

Jim positioned the ball, lined up his cue and focussed. This kid had a real ability - he couldn't afford to let his concentration drift. Angle of aim, angle of incidence, momentum and force. A simple game employing complex physics. One of his favorites. 

And for a while he could forget. Everything. He could just be - and not remember _why_ he had come out tonight. And with any luck, his lunatic senses would allow him to. 

He took his shot, breaking the bunched balls but only enough for them to separate. None of them fell to a pocket so he stepped back and let the kid have a go. 

His calm confidence faded rapidly however, as the kid picked off one after another. Each shot seeming to be more impossible than the last until, without a word, the kid bounced a double, clearing the table. 

He at least had the grace to look a little abashed at his display. He straightened up, turned to Jim and held out his hand, "Sorry, man." 

Abrupt laughter caught Jim unawares, lifting something inside him. It seemed way too long since he'd laughed. He shook the kid's hand and immediately began racking up again. "Right, no more Mr Nice Guy." 

"Sure? I mean, there's no obligation or anything ..." 

"What?" Jim shot a teasing glance at him, "Afraid you can't do it twice in a row?" 

The kid spread his arms wide in a gesture both disarming and engaging, "Hey, I'm not one to boast but, you know, my game is pretty consistent." 

Jim shook his head, watching where he placed the balls on the table, "You say the words, candy from a baby, Chief, and you _will_ pay for it." 

The kid raised his eyebrows, reaching for the chalk. "Now _that_ sounds like a challenge." 

Hiding his grin, Jim replied, "And I'm sure you're more than up to it." 

"Big words, man, big words," The kid was chuckling as well, making a point of pocketing Jim's cash. "I always believe in giving a man a chance to win his money back." 

"Good." Jim nodded, "You're obviously no hustler." 

"Oh, why?" 

"Well, you should have let me win the first frame - then offered to treble the bet for the next one." 

"And then you would have beaten the shit out of me for hustling you." The young man shook his head, "No way. Not my style. My turn to break. Stand back." 

"Sure." Jim stepped back, remembering to put another ten on the table edge. Now however, he concentrated not on the game but on the man, himself. He wasn't as young as he'd first appeared, probably somewhere in his mid twenties. His body appeared fit; broad shoulders hidden beneath checked flannel. Long fingers handled the cue with ease, the good-looking face composed as he prepared his shot. Two silver earrings hung from the left ear and a leather fetish dangled from his neck. 

The sudden crack of the balls brought him back. He realized with surprise that it was his shot - and knowing how good the kid was, he decided not to waste it. He walked around the table a little, sizing up his options. Still undecided, he glanced at his companion, "You play much?" 

"Few times a week. I'm playing hooky, actually." 

"Hooky? You're a student?" 

"Yep. Supposed to be writing a paper." 

"Oh, and ... er ... you're just taking a break, right?" 

"Yeah, man," the kid grinned, "you got it." 

"Rainier?" 

"Uh huh. What about you?" 

Jim leaned over the table. Positioning his cue with great care, he aimed and shot. The white balled rolled smoothly along, hitting another which dropped neatly into the pocket. "I'm a cop." 

"Oh." 

Jim was through his third shot before he registered the reaction. "What's wrong? Don't like cops?" 

"Nothing against them, really. Well, not me - but my mom could tell you a few stories." 

"Probably heard them all." 

"Yeah, me too." 

Jim glanced up to find the man smiling, sharing the joke. It was a good smile, a genuine smile - though it took a few years off the already-young looking face. It was odd, but although they'd only been playing for a few minutes, there was something in that face, or maybe it was the voice, that made Jim feel like he'd known this man for a long time. 

"The police have something like a real closed society, don't they?" 

Jim shrugged, "I guess." 

"But I mean, there's a whole initiation, rookie kind of thing happening, isn't there? Spouses and children are considered honorary members and embraced into the tribe if anything bad happens." 

"Is that a definition of a ... closed society?" 

"Uh, not really just ..." 

Jim shook his head, "Ah, trying to put me off my game, right?" 

The kid glanced away innocently. "No, just interested." 

"In closed societies?" 

"Oh, man, I'm interested in lots of things. You know when..." 

Jim held up his hand, an almost imperious gesture that made the young man smile. He took his next shot - but missed. With something of a satisfied chuckle, the kid took the next and potted one ball - but he missed after that. Knowing it was now or never, Jim lined up again, potting one ball after another until he'd cleared the table. He straightened up to find a ten dollar bill sitting next to his own. He gazed down at them a moment then held his hand out. He was only a little shocked to see it wasn't quite as steady as it had been a moment ago. 

The kid came close, shook his hand but before letting go, Jim murmured, "Do you want another game - or would you like to get out of here?" 

Blue eyes widened a little and that mouth parted in some faint suggestion of surprise. For a long moment, the kid said nothing. Then, he nodded once, "I ... my place is just around the corner." 

Jim let his hand go. "I'll follow you." 

The kid nodded again, all surprise gone from his face, though Jim could see a faint rise of colour on those cheeks. The kid drained his beer, put his cue back on the wall rack and picked up his jacket. By the time he reached the bar, he had it shrugged on. "Night, Barnie." 

"Night, Blair. Careful walking home." 

"See ya, guys." 

A general chorus of farewells sent the young man on his way. Only when he was a minute clear of the door, did Jim succeed in getting the shaking under control. 

What the hell was he doing? 

He hadn't even thought it through. 

He'd just shaken the guy's hand and . . . 

This was madness... 

He carefully put his own cue away, sauntering over to the bar to place his empty glass back down. The big guy was smiling at him. 

Total madness ... 

"Well, it was a short lesson, but not bad for a start. At least he didn't fleece you." 

What about his promises? What about the danger? 

"No - but thanks for the support all the same." 

He had to be insane... 

The big guy laughed out loud, clapping Jim on the shoulder. In response, Jim waved a good night and headed for the door. Only years of practice kept his pace controlled, the twists of anticipation in his gut ignored for the moment. 

He'd forgotten how cold it was outside. He walked clear of the bar then looked up the street. The kid was waiting for him on the corner - but even before Jim could move, he'd turned and headed down the next street. 

It wasn't too late to back out. He could just turn for the truck, go home ... go home and ... and ... 

Jim followed the kid, pushing his hands into his pockets, keeping his head down. 

It had been so long since he'd done this. How many years? Not since the night before he'd married Carolyn. So, six years then. Six years since he'd last looked for this, since he'd last found it. And that last night so long ago had been frantic in so many ways, desperation tearing at him when he'd least expected it. His bucks' night had been planned by the guys - but when they'd dropped him off home, he'd grabbed a taxi and headed back into town. He'd known exactly what he'd wanted - it was to be the last time forever. He was getting married in the morning and he would be faithful to Carolyn regardless of how he felt. 

So he'd found a man, in a wild and smoky bar. They'd gone to a hotel and Jim had made the most of his last night of freedom. He'd arrived home just on dawn, exhausted, sated in a way Carolyn could never give him, determined that he would never again touch a man sexually. 

And yet, here he was, six years later, turning a corner somewhere in Cascade, following a student with blue eyes bigger than the sky. Of course, there was no guarantee anything would happen. Hell, for all he knew, the kid didn't have a clue as to what was really going on - but then again, there had been that recognition in those eyes, that brief parting of lips Jim had desperately wanted to kiss. No, the kid knew exactly what was going on here. 

Still some way up ahead, the kid paused in front of a doorway. Glancing back again to where Jim followed, he turned, unlocked the door and disappeared. Speeding up his pace a little, Jim arrived moments later, went inside and pushed the door closed again. 

A flight of stairs greeted him. A door led off either side on this level but both were closed. He began climbing to the first floor, then the second. On the third floor however, he came to a halt as sudden indecision flooded through him at the sight of the open door to his right. Lights were on inside and he could see just enough to make out a warm and inviting apartment beyond. 

He would regret this. He knew that for a fact. Tomorrow he would regret this bitterly, curse himself for a fool - a reckless fool at that. Hadn't he promised? And what if his senses should react to . . . to . . . 

No, he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be here, shouldn't .... Shouldn't. 

Some blind thing in his gut urged him forward, screamed at him to do this, to acknowledge this need and act upon it, finally, before it was too late, before he got so bad that he couldn't see or move or touch . . . 

But did he really need it so much that he had to do it like this? In the dead of night? With a man he'd met no more than an hour before? 

Yes, that's exactly what he needed. He needed anonymity more than anything else; to be with somebody who knew nothing about him, nothing of who he was or why. Somebody who would ask him no questions, expect no answers and, ignorant, would notice nothing. Yes, he needed this. Needed it almost too much. 

And this could be his last chance. 

He left his hesitation and doubts in the hall and went in. 

As the door snapped shut behind him the kid appeared, two glasses of whiskey in his hands. He gave one to Jim then, his gaze steady, threw back his own. For a moment, Jim simply watched him. 

Yes, he was indeed beautiful, this student who should have been writing a paper. Very beautiful and Jim had no trouble feeling threads of desire wash through him, from head to toe, crashing into place at his groin. A heady mixture of whiskey and lust filled him as he drank and before he even thought about what he was doing, he'd dropped his glass to the carpet, stepped forward and pushed the young man up against the wall. 

Surprise and not a little fear fringed eyes wide with equal amounts of anticipation. Jim wanted to ask about the fear but his body ruled him then. There was simply too much information flowing into his brain to allow him time to think. His hands could feel the strong body, hard muscles, racing pulse. He could smell the distinct scent on the air, the one he'd needed for so long but had insisted upon denying himself. His body knew this was a man, a willing man, and he had no choice but to respond. 

With one hand, he held the young man in place. With the other, he cradled that face, lifting it up to meet him - and then he dived in, needing urgently, the taste of those lips. As they met, he groaned, pushing his tongue in further, driving his compulsion with a breath of his own fear. The body beneath his hands trembled but the mouth opened wider, allowing him access. 

He took it. 

More tastes came to him then, things he couldn't pause to identify. This mouth was hot and moist and he just wanted more and more of it. His tongue rasped against the other, flickering over teeth, sucking and pushing. He was instantly hard and he ground his erection against the young man's hip. His hand slipped up and pulled the tie free from long curls, reveling in the softness, the silky feel. 

With a moan, Blair twisted his mouth away. He gasped for air as Jim trailed a line of kisses down his throat. He moved up again to take in a lobe, tasting cold metal in his travels, a sharp vivid taste, almost overwhelming. For a moment, his fear soared, but there was no further spike, no other thing out of place and that fear subsided, drowned by his desire and the presence of the man before him. His own heart pounded, rushing blood to vital parts of his deprived body. His own hands shook violently but it wasn't until he opened his eyes that he saw the affects of his needs on the other man. 

Blair was staring at him, a little wild-eyed, a little stunned - but obviously very interested. 

"I ... I'm sorry," Jim whispered. 

"That's cool, man," Blair gave him a weak smile, making no move to escape. "I ... you just took me by surprise, that's all." 

"Me too," Jim tried to laugh a little, but the shaking had affected his voice as well. "It's ... er ... been a while." 

Blair nodded, "I guessed. Look, um ... do you want to ..." 

"What?" 

"Well ... I think we might be more comfortable in the ... er ... bedroom." 

Reluctantly, Jim released him and stepped back. "Okay." 

"Right." Blair studied him for a moment, as though he wanted to say something else - then turned and led the way down the hall. Jim did nothing to stop his gaze from lingering over the plane of his back, nor the tidy, inviting shape of his ass. 

Six years was a long, long time. 

Too long. 

But even six years hadn't prepared him for the prize that he'd found. Six years of repressed desire for the male form did not make this man attractive - no, he was exquisite all on his own. 

Jim followed down the hall and stopped at the bedroom door. Like the rest of this place, the room was filled with warm colours - and at this moment, a warm body. A single bedside lamp was on, keeping the light soft. Blair was waiting for him, undoing the buttons of his shirt with determined fingers. Entranced, Jim simply watched as the shirt fell away, as the t-shirt was lifted to reveal a lightly furred chest. Then the pale, faded jeans he'd liked so much. Blair sat on the edge of the bed, kicked off his shoes, then removed his jeans. With only the briefest moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well. 

Jim drank in the sight of the naked man. Solid, compact body was cut with clear muscle lines - but not bulky. Instead, there was a firm beauty there, enhanced by the filmy shadows from the lamp. A narrow waist trickled down to a dark patch of thick curls. The cock which hung there was a thing of beauty itself, half-hard, proud, a size more than in proportion to his body, rounded balls hanging below almost a temptation in themselves. Strong muscled thighs completed the picture and Jim had to force air into his lungs in response. 

As he watched, the cock filled more, until it stood out, begging attention. He moved closer, wanting to touch. A single drop of moisture emerged from the swollen head and his tastebuds yearned to know it more, better, fully and desperately. He would have reached out then, but at that moment, Blair turned, shivering slightly in the cool air. Without a word, he climbed into bed, pulling the covers over himself - but not before Jim caught sight again of that perfect ass. 

The image set him into action. He stripped off his jacket, sweater and shirt in a manner almost perfunctory. It wasn't until he was unbuttoning his jeans that he realized Blair was watching him - and he slowed down a little. He almost flushed under that steady gaze, feeling the eyes rake over his body in the way that his had done earlier. But he continued on, easing his heavy cock from his boxers before kicking both shoes and clothes clear. He stepped towards the bed and Blair scooted over, lifting the covers for him to get in. 

The cool sheets were warmed with the young man's body heat. Jim laid down on his side and instantly gathered the man to him, placing soft kisses along the collarbone and jaw. As he felt the naked length of Blair press against him, his body's urgency began to build again, scaring him. The last thing he wanted to do was to force or hurt this beautiful creature, but containing this compulsion was becoming more difficult as each moment went by. 

Blair's arms came around him and this time he offered up his mouth to be kissed. Jim welcomed the offering, kissing deeply and once more tasting what he needed, there, inside this man. But even as he did so, his hands were questing further, feeling the soft, springy hair on the muscled chest, pinching a nipple as he went, moving on, down, down until he could feel with his own flesh, what he needed to know was there. 

A hard groan filled his ears as his hand finally found that burning shaft. Hips thrust into his grip and he held the cock firmly, his fingers feeling each ridge and ripple, touching that steady leak of moisture which set his blood on fire. His thumb caught it, smearing it over the rounded head, massaging it in with a frisson of hunger. 

This was like returning home from battle. 

He took another searing kiss before lowering his lips to a tender nipple. There his tongue made love to the bud, forcing it up to peak and shiver under his ministrations. Eager for more, he shifted again, gathering the other into his mouth, nipping and biting until that too, was pink and sensitive. Then the mouth again begged his attention, those full lips wet and needy. Like a man starved, he dived in, sucking, lapping, biting a little, his belly churning with this irrepressible need. 

He let Blair free only long enough to breathe, his fingers still caressing the glorious cock in his hand. 

"What ..." Blair murmured, eyes closed, body stiff with wanting. "What's your name?" 

Shock registered on Jim slowly - but he came to a halt, waiting until those eyes opened and gazed at him, edged with unveiled desire. "Sorry. I ... got distracted. Jim. Call me Jim." 

A smile greeted him, not displeased at this admission. "I'm ..." 

"Blair. I heard." Hoping he'd been forgiven his error, Jim settled a little, allowing his cock to push up against the man's thigh once more, where warm flesh kept it company. "I am sorry. Like I said, it's been a long time for me. I didn't mean ..." 

"That's okay," Blair grinned, his voice husky. "I'll take it as a compliment." 

"You should," Jim smiled back. 

"I um ..." 

"What?" 

Blair let his gaze wander, taking in Jim's face, his shoulders, the chest revealed as the covers had fallen back. Finally, those eyes returned and Blair swallowed, "I just thought you should know ... I um ... I've never been with ..." 

Jim froze, his hand flinching away from the cock. "Then why ..." 

"Hey, man," Blair grinned again, grabbing his hand and replacing it. His hips shifted a little, moving him closer and further into Jim's grip. "Don't stop. I didn't say I didn't want to - just that I never have before. Don't make me wish I hadn't said anything." 

"But," Jim frowned, "are you sure? I don't want ..." 

"You're not forcing me, man. I knew what this was about back in the bar. I've always wanted to do this and really, I promise you, it's impossible to fantasize I'm in bed with a woman when you've got shoulders like that." 

"No?" Jim smiled a little, his unease vanishing in the wake of that warm smile, that voice which reached inside him. 

"No - especially when I encounter other bits of ... equipment." With that, Blair's hand squeezed down between them to touch, gently, the head of Jim's cock. 

That one touch set Jim on fire again. With a lunge, he rolled over until Blair was trapped beneath him. Once more he took hot kisses, feeling the man's body respond to each one, small, husky groans caressing his ears. This kid might be a virgin with men, but there was no doubt he wanted it. No doubt at all. 

Jim didn't pause to question again. Instead, he slipped down, kissing and licking, tasting fevered flesh with his tongue, desperate now to gain his fill. He reached the flat stomach, dipping his tongue into the navel, receiving another groan for his efforts. He carried on, moving further south until his mouth finally gained its prize. He swallowed the shaft whole, drinking in the shout of surprise and ecstasy Blair gave him. With his hands holding the man's hips down, he began to suck hard, feeling no quarter in him to be given. The cock tasted magnificent, all hot and sweaty and musky and so incredibly male, he almost came with the simple knowledge of what he was doing. He plunged down again, until the head butted against the back of his throat, before easing it out again slowly, so slowly, living with the taste, the texture, the blood pounding along the shaft . . . all so . . . so . . . 

Jim almost stopped as a wave of fear crashed over him. His senses . . . were . . . not spiking exactly, not like before, not with pain, no, but . . . 

God, all so alive! So aware. So aroused to some higher level where everything he was experiencing with this man seemed so much _more_ than what he'd been expecting, than he'd ever felt before. Was this also his imagination, making up for six years of denial? 

Did it matter? 

Jim grinned around the beautiful cock, letting his tongue swirl and play, determined to enjoy every part of this night to the full. If this was how his senses wanted to be, he was in no mood to stop it. Not when it was like this. Blair writhed beneath him, moaning continuously now and Jim knew that if he didn't stop, it would all be over too soon. 

Reluctantly, he let most of the cock slide out of his mouth and instead, concentrated on licking the long shaft slowly, teasing, breathing across the wet head, pausing long enough to look closely, allowing his eyes to have their fill of this insane act. Blair's cock was beautiful, from the hard, rosy head, down the silky shaft to the dark curls nestled at its base. His fingers scraped over the balls hidden there and he ducked down to take first one, then the other into his mouth. He came up again, trailing his tongue along the crease between groin and thigh until he could return to sucking cock. 

He'd always loved sucking cock. 

He took the head into his mouth again, letting his tongue dip into the slit, finding more of the salty fluid there waiting for him. He sucked it down his throat again, thirsty for more, while his hand pumped slowly, deliberately. 

"Jim..." 

Blair was breathing harsh and short now. Jim didn't want to leave this tasty morsel - but he knew he had to. As much as he wanted the taste of semen again - and this man's in particular - there were other things he needed right now as well. 

With a groan of his own, he let the cock fall from his mouth, forced his fingers to move away. Blair remained where he was for a minute - then suddenly he rolled over, his face diving for Jim's groin. 

"Oh, god!" 

Jim nearly arched off the bed as his cock was swallowed. Urgent fingers dug into his ass cheeks as Blair sucked him hard. Almost immediately, the sucking tapered off a little, to become a smooth up and down motion. Blair was inviting him to fuck his mouth and Jim, too far away from these joys for too long, had no will in him to refuse. 

He pushed himself up on one elbow. He had to see this with his own eyes. Those lips wrapped around his erection, that look of wanton desire on Blair's face, the determination with which his shaft was pumped were all too much. Sinking back down, he gently rolled, letting Blair move with him until Jim was on his hands and knees over the young man, thrusting into his mouth. 

He might have been a virgin with men, but the kid must have had a few amazing blow-jobs in his life. No awkwardness there. No hesitation. He licked and sucked and pulled as though he'd been doing it for years, touching every sweet spot Jim had - and Jim reveled in each moment, his whole body singing with disbelief that he had, purely by chance, found somebody like this, somebody who put his entire self into bed with Jim. 

There seemed no explanation for it - but somehow, there were no barriers between them. They co-existed on the same plane of unashamed and long-denied need. 

And the balance was near perfect. 

His body began to shake with the strain of holding his orgasm at bay. His ass clenched with the effort, his heart pounded, his breathing stunted. But the mouth was so hot and moist, Blair's hands so warm and welcome, he couldn't bring himself to pull away yet. But he needed some warning, some word... the kid wouldn't want to swallow ... not the first time .... "Blair ... I'm close ... too good..." 

Blair sucked him harder, as though determined to have this - and Jim gave up the fight. He fucked Blair's mouth like it was the last thing on this earth, drowning everything else in his life under the mind-blowing sensations centered on his cock. He trembled, his arms threatening to fold - but at the last minute, he felt it. The pleasure rose to numbing proportions, blinding him at the last moment. With a cry, it peaked and he jerked his cock deeper, filling Blair's mouth with his seed, again and again, his grunts punctuating each thrust. Blair swallowed, catching it all, groaning along with Jim, drinking as Jim would have done until there was no more. Even then his tongue continued to move, gently lapping up the last until he released Jim's softening cock, cleaned and ready for next time. 

Jim used his last remaining brain cells to force his body sideways. Like a tree, he fell, arms and legs a tangled heap. It was a full minute before his eyes could open and the first thing that greeted them was Blair's hard cock, inches away from his face. His mouth watered at the prospect. 

"Wow." Dry throat made the word come out all husky and raw. 

"Wow?" Blair sat up, turning in bed to meet him face to face. A shy smile laced those eyes with wonder. "Did you say wow?" 

"Yep." Jim disciplined his facial muscles into a smile - but it was hard going. He must be getting old. It had been a long time since he'd come as hard as that. 

About six years perhaps? Probably longer, now that he thought about it. 

"Cool!" Blair chuckled - and Jim laughed along with him. No, this man wasn't just beautiful on the outside - and perhaps that was what had drawn him in at the bar: the glow in those eyes, the warm readiness in that smile - and a voice that seemed to have some kind of strange, delicious power over him. This man was not afraid of showing what he thought and felt. What he wanted. Wasn't afraid to give and receive. To feel. 

As the stealing lethargy abated a little, Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, pausing only a moment before taking another kiss. This time he could afford to be a little gentle and Blair responded with almost heartbreaking sweetness. The familiar flavour of traces of his own semen in the mouth of another made it even more so - especially entwined with Blair's own taste. All of these things he could taste and feel so wonderfully now. 

Yes, this man was very special indeed - and Jim could only be grateful that not only had he found such a man tonight - but that he, rather than some ham-fisted slob, had had the opportunity to be Blair's first. In this man, that was such a precious gift. 

Slowly, the kisses warmed him inside again. Soothing hands ran down his back, touching him in a way he'd needed and denied. Blair felt so good to hold, so different and yet, exactly what Jim needed to hold, right at this moment. They fit together so perfectly, it was hard to believe they hadn't been made for each other. 

He broke off the kiss to give the young man time to breathe. Blair settled against him, his cock still hard but obviously prepared to wait. "Yeah," he murmured. "Wow." 

"So," Jim mused quietly, "you don't regret it?" 

"No way, man!" Blair chuckled. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. It was ... incredible. Seeing you come ... tasting you .... Like you said, wow." 

Jim touched a small kiss to the young man's forehead. Then he moved back a little, needing to see that amazing face now. "Will you ... I'd like you to fuck me." 

Those blue eyes widened - but not with horror. No, there was some serious desire glowing in there, along with a few other things. 

"If you want to, that is." 

"If I ..." Blair stuttered a moment before he realized Jim was toying with him. In response, he darted forward for a hard kiss of his own which encouraged more than a flutter of interest in Jim's cock. Before it was over, he was amazingly hard again, denying his age with rampant need. 

Taking his own breathing space, he snuggled in closer, running his hands down Blair's back until they cupped that beautiful ass in a manner suggestive of what he'd just asked for. The tender flesh beneath his fingers almost made him suggest something else ... but not quite. "You have anything we could use for lubrication?" 

"Lubrication ... oh god," Blair murmured, as though just realizing what they were about to do. "Yeah, sure." He left Jim's arms and rummaged in the bedside drawer. He returned holding a small tube. "This do?" 

Jim nodded, rolling onto his stomach. "You need ...?" 

"No, man, I know, it's cool." Blair said these words with confidence \- but his slightly unsteady voice gave away his anticipation. 

Unseen by him, Jim smiled into the bed. He remembered all too well the first time he'd taken a man. He spread his legs wide and waited for Blair to settle between them. Closing his eyes, he tried not to listen to the mechanics, instead, concentrated on that first needed touch. 

A finger brushed against his opening, cool and moist with gel. Harsh determination stopped him from thrusting up to take it inside. He knew he had to be patient. It had been more than seven years since he'd last taken it - he couldn't afford unnecessary injuries. 

The finger probed gently, as though Blair too, could remember how long it had been. Then a little pressure and Jim breathed deeply to relax himself. A moment later, the finger was inside him and his muscles clenched against it, holding it deep, giving it a welcome. 

God, such a long time. 

Blair moved his finger deeper, sliding in and out a little and Jim relaxed more. God, he needed this, needed it badly. 

He didn't notice until the second finger entered him, slick and smooth. This time, his hips rose without thought, taking them deeply. They moved inside him, angling this way and that until ... 

"Oh, god!" Jim grunted, gasping in a breath with shock, his whole body rigid. "I'd forgotten ..." Forgotten how good that felt, how one single touch to his prostate could send shivers down his spine, make his whole body tremble. His cock was now a rock pressed into the sheets, almost painfully. He desperately needed to move - but he couldn't; those fingers held him captive, fucking him slowly and neatly, just as he'd wanted. The familiar pressure in his ass made him tingle all over. He wanted to stretch and curl up and take more all at the same time. 

"One more," Blair whispered and Jim could hear the awe in that warm voice. 

"You okay?" 

"Uh, yeah," Blair acknowledged. "I just don't know how long I'll last once I'm ... er ... inside you, that's all. This is pretty hot, man." 

"Uh huh." Jim groaned out loud again as the third finger penetrated him, once more raking over that spot. If this kept up, he'd be lucky to survive long enough to regret it in the morning. He was getting old. His body just couldn't take this kind of pleasure any more, especially when his senses were delivering so many wonderful, tiny details to him, the scent of what he assumed was Blair's arousal, each small indentation of the fingers pushing into his ass, the heat of Blair's body and the subtle changes to the timbre of his voice, betraying his desire. 

But his body could take it - and did. He could feel his hole stretching to accommodate the three fingers, feel his erection grind into the sheets as though his body had an agenda all it's own - and number one on the list right now was to get that man's cock shoved up his ass. 

"Please, Blair, now." 

"Yeah," Blair's voice came out distracted and hit Jim right where he needed it. Blair pulled his fingers away and Jim understood the short wait. He closed his eyes and pictured Blair smearing gel on his cock, smoothing it over that hard, rosy head, making it ready. 

Then the weight on the bed shifted as Blair placed his hands either side of Jim. Spreading his legs wider, Jim prepared himself for that first thrust, the one he needed so badly. He held his breath as the hard cock head nudged against his hole, seeking out where to go and then it was pushing against him, forcing its way inside and god, it hurt, yes, it hurt like his first time, like he was the virgin, the cock was splitting him in two - 

But he took it. He took it into him, loving the pain for what it meant, knowing it would go away in a minute, but god, oh god, it felt so good to have a man in his ass again, so good, so damn fucking good to be fucked again after so long - 

And Blair's cock filled him, sliding in slowly, filling him up with hardness his body was desperate for and god, yes, he wanted this, needed this, needed it to be a man and not some toy, needed to feel the body rest down on him, needed to feel the whole length slide into him until it was all there, all the way inside him, balls resting on balls, body resting on body and Jesus, how had he managed to live without this for so long \- 

And the pain diminished and died, leaving him with just the hot pleasure, the hot weight, the feel of that furred chest against his back, the sweat sheened skin slipping against his own, the strong thighs between his, angling and lifting, withdrawing that cock slowly, achingly, before pushing back into him - 

Blair was fucking him. 

"Feels ... so good ..." the words fell out of Jim, tumbling into the wasteland of his abstinence. 

"Oh yeah," Blair whispered, kissing his shoulder, "Very good." 

"So hard ..." Jim thrust his hips up to meet Blair's cock, feeling it squeeze another inch into him. He could feel it in his belly, right where he wanted to. He didn't want this to stop, didn't want it to end, wanted Blair to go right on fucking him. 

"God, Jim, this is . . . this feels . . .. oh . . ." Blair gasped, grunting with the effort of going slow. "How long?" 

"Seven, eight years." 

"Hell!" Blair kissed his other shoulder, his teeth nipping with a sharp pain Jim welcomed. He withdrew again, angling this time for Jim's prostate. The brush, hard and violent, made Jim gasp out loud, sending fired messages to his whole body. His cock flinched and suddenly Blair's hand was there, snaking past his stomach to hold and caress. Jim worked his way into Blair's fist then settled enough to let the man fuck him properly. 

Blair lifted himself up a little then, his thrusts speeding up as though he would push himself deeper with each one. Jim was dizzy now, dizzy for air, for completion, for the joining he could only get like this. His whole body began to shake and fear clutched at him, fear that this coupling would indeed kill him because it felt like that, felt like something was coming to an end and it was, it was, some part of his life closed off and hidden and denied and longed for, some part of himself he'd needed and lost and it was ending, all of that, ending and opening up to be taken by this beautiful man, as his ass was being taken, each plunge inside him edging him closer to a precipice he needed to leap. 

"Oh, god," Jim breathed, hardly more than a whisper, "that's so good." Blair's hand pumped him in time with his thrusts, Blair's lips caressed his back, Blair's body pinned him down, Blair's cock invaded him and he could see nothing of it, only feel it, feel something after so long, so very long of feeling nothing at all. 

"Jim ... so ... incredible ..." But Blair's voice was gone with his exertions, driven from him as his body slipped out of his control, cock pounding instead. Jim heard a sharp gasp, felt a sudden jabbing thrust - and then the man was coming, coming inside him, filling him, the burn of hot semen splashing against his prostate and it was too much, way too much and he cried out, coming and coming in Blair's hand, falling and falling so hard and so fast and so wonderfully he could only fly with it and let the joy fill him with each drop of Blair's essence. 

The fall to earth was sudden and mutual. As Blair collapsed down onto him, Jim felt all his muscles spasm and relax. For long minutes, all he could hear was the sandpaper rasp of two sets of lungs desperately trying to compensate. 

He wanted to laugh - would have if it had been at all physically possible. So he contented himself with a lazy smile, happy to wait for the oxygen content in his body to return to normal, happy to wait until Blair recovered enough to withdraw from him, happy to just ... yeah, just fucking happy. Just happy fucking. Whatever. 

"Jim?" A small, pale voice murmured next to his ear before pressing a kiss to his neck. 

"Yeah?" 

"You ... gotta tell me, man." 

"What?" 

"Is it ... always that good?" 

Jim couldn't stop the smile which filled his words, "I wish I could say it was." 

"Okay. Just checking." Blair shifted a little, "Guess I'd better move, let you breathe." 

With what seemed a lot of effort, Blair pushed himself up and then slowly and gently pulled his softening cock out of Jim's passage. Jim would have turned then, but Blair stopped him with a hand on his leg. "Just wait a moment." 

Seconds later, he felt something soft and cool press against him, cleaning him up. Then Blair urged him over onto his back, and cleaned the mess on his stomach and cock. Jim watched the intense concentration on the man's face, feeling something else besides contentment. 

This could become addictive. Not just the sex - but this man. 

Yeah, very addictive. 

When Blair was finished, he held out a hand and Jim sat up, turning so once more, his head was on the pillow. He stretched out, pulling the covers over them both, settling Blair down against his side. Only then did he take a kiss. It felt like a simple one to begin with, but slowly it deepened until it became something else, something ... cherished, something that had nothing to do with sex or passing years or regaining something of himself. This was a meeting, here, a joining of something else entirely and as though it were a drug, he wanted more. 

The balance was perfect. 

How long the kiss lasted, he had no idea but when they finally parted, Blair gazed steadily at him, all signs of humour long gone. Jim could only gaze back, surprised a little but content for the moment, that what he'd felt was mutual. Then Blair's gaze moved again, once more dusting over his face like a caress. 

"You want to stay the night?" 

"I'd like to," Jim replied softly, not letting the moment go. 

Blair smiled a little, his gaze locking back on. "I'd like you to as well." He moved back down until his head rested on Jim's chest, their arms around each other. "Glad that's settled." 

"Yeah." 

"You can turn out the light whenever you're ready." 

Jim chuckled then, lifting an arm until his fingers found the lamp switch. As the bedroom was plunged into darkness, the rich voice came to him once more. 

"Man, I am so glad I played hooky tonight." 

* * *

Long tendrils of sunlight warmed Jim's face, making him turn towards it. For a moment, he just let it sit and welcome him, then slowly and carefully, he opened his eyes. 

Beside him, resting on another pillow, was the man he'd picked up last night. Blair. Soft curls splayed out on the cotton, eyes closed, mouth open a little, face turned slightly towards Jim. One arm was buried beneath the sheets, the other was stretched out, fingers touching Jim's shoulder. 

Awesome. The first word that sprang into his mind surprised him - but not for long. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken like this, woken up feeling so relaxed, so fresh, so ready for the day. But to feel so good - and to wake up with that still next to him just made it all seem so ... awesome. 

And it seemed the strange heightened level his senses had risen to had been a momentary thing. Now, everything was back to normal - or as normal as he got these days. Still, for all the trouble they had caused him over the last year, at least this time they'd given him a gift. So, when he finally sank into madness with them, he'd have to try to hold on to the memory of last night. 

His gaze flicked away to the alarm clock just long enough to register that he still had a few hours before he had to get back. But by the time he returned to the other man, he found sleepy blue eyes blinking at him. A hand moved, smoothing over the face in a gesture Jim read easily. 

"Good morning." He murmured with something of a smile. 

"'Morning. What time is it?" 

"A little after seven." 

"Oh, okay." 

"You got to be somewhere?" 

"Not till eleven. Got a class. You?" 

"Start work at eleven." 

Half a sleepy grin woke more of Blair's face up. "Can't wait to tell my mom I slept with a cop." 

Jim chuckled, "Oh? You going to tell her I'm not a female cop?" 

"Sure. Why not? She's cool. An honest-to-god hippie. I never asked her but I'm sure she's had her own ... adventures." 

"So ... how do you feel after your first adventure?" Jim tried but couldn't quite keep a note of wary hesitation out of his voice. 

"Well, that depends." 

"On what?" 

"On how you feel." 

Jim grinned, "I feel good, great in fact." 

"Me too," the imp grinned in reply. 

Shaking his head, Jim moved in closer, letting his fingers touch that face, feel the contours gently. Blair closed his eyes and allowed the caress, his own hands moving to Jim's shoulders, sliding up his neck until he could pull Jim down for a kiss. 

Old flavours and new mixed together in the early morning and Jim drank them all in, once more reveling in the fortune that had landed him here, in this man's bed. He slid in closer, almost instantly encountering the hardness ready between Blair's legs. A smile of delight interrupted his kiss and he lifted the covers to glance down. "Mmmn, that looks like trouble." 

"Oh, it could be," Blair sighed. "There's just no telling some days." 

Laughing like a kid, Jim swooped down and stole another long, deep kiss, his body taking control of the rest, shifting until he lay full on the smaller man. With gentle nudges, he pushed their erections together, sliding back and forth until the young man was moaning beneath him. Only then did Jim begin to regret something of last night. He'd been so deep in need, he'd not spent anywhere near enough time simply giving to this man and he wanted to; he delighted in the noises he made, the flush of desire on his face, the heavy-lidded gaze filled with wanting. 

So he moved slowly this morning, leaving moist, wanton kisses across that face, along the jaw, down the throat before biting hard and sucking in the flesh of the shoulder. He checked the mark, to make sure it would last, then moved on. 

"You're gonna shame me, man," Blair whispered, more than susceptible to the gentle rocking against his cock. "I'm going to have to go into class with a giant hickey on my neck and face all the questions alone." 

"Just tell them I was a brute. You'll only get sympathy then." 

"And you are a brute," Blair arched up against him, urging closer contact and Jim began to move a little faster, riding their cocks together without the urgency of last night, but instead, with an incredible sweetness that surprised him. He'd never been much for early morning sex - but this morning, it seemed not only necessary, but irresistible. 

He twisted himself until he could take one of those delicious nipples in his mouth. This time, he allowed himself to fully absorb the affect on Blair. The young man trembled with each lap of Jim's tongue, groaned with each nip and suck - and again as Jim shifted and headed for its twin. 

Blair's hands weren't idle, either. They reached for Jim's chest, squeezing firm pecs before pinching Jim's own nipples, forcing a low moan out of him. Then they slipped around his back, cupping his ass to push their hips closer together. A single finger grazed along the crack between and briefly, Jim wondered if he could take it again so soon - and just like that, he was close, perched on the edge, ready to fall without grace. 

"Jim ..." Blair's voice soaked into him, a music he doubted he would ever get tired of. He opened his eyes to see Blair flushed and panting, a little hesitant. 

"What?" 

"Can I ..." 

"Please," Jim replied instantly. With a final ferocious kiss, he slid off the other man and lay on his side. Immediately, Blair curled up behind him, his hand slipping down once again to that place. Fingers probed gently, sending urgent messages to Jim's cock. 

"You okay with this? Not sore from ... last night?" 

"Not enough. Go on." 

"You're still relaxed," Blair's words touched him like a caress, full of delight and promise. "And wet." 

"Yeah. Wet from you." Jim moved back into the touch, feeling two seeking fingers enter him, his passage still slick with Blair's semen. "Please." 

And then the fingers were gone and suddenly, that long, hard length replaced them, easing in without any trouble at all. Once fully sheathed, Blair wrapped his arms around Jim, taking his cock to pump it gently. In time with that rhythm, he began to fuck Jim slowly, sliding his cock in and out as Jim held out, held on and once more, wished it could go on forever. 

"Had no idea ..." Blair grunted with the effort, "that it would be this good, being with a man, fucking a man . . ." 

"Good, yeah." Jim shook his head, "Not going to last long." 

"Just a little longer." Blair thrust harder now, one hand drifting down to tug at Jim's balls before rising to pinch a nipple. 

The combined stimuli was too much for Jim. With a warning shout, he shoved back to take the cock deep, then forward into Blair's waiting fingers. His entire body shook with his climax, spiraling something deep and shocking inside him where it blossomed into heat. Blair rode out his orgasm then continued to thrust, faster now, catching up and Jim stayed with him, enjoying this more than he would ever find words for. 

And then Blair was gripping his hips, shoving them together and suddenly, he cried out, filling Jim with his completion. Waves of pleasure shot through Blair and into Jim's flesh until they all but faded, leaving them collapsed and exhausted. 

Drained, Jim hauled in air, shifting slightly as Blair withdrew. "Jeeze, Chief, one night with you could kill a man if he wasn't fit." 

Blair gave him a lazy chuckle, climbed over him and back into his arms. "So ... all that muscle was just for me, eh?" 

"Never know when you're going to need it." Jim pulled him close and took a deep kiss, and just like last night, there was something more to it ... as though it was less a physical kiss and more something else. 

Damn it, if only he could find words for this ... this _thing_. But whatever it was, at least as much of it was also coming from Blair, in the way he lay in Jim's arms, the way his hands moved, his mouth opened and drew Jim down, as though he too, was in the same state of wonder. 

So sweet, this. So very sweet. 

And then they had to breathe again and Jim simply held him tighter, Blair simply snuggled in closer and they stayed that way for minutes that seemed both too short and too long. 

Finally, afraid he would fall asleep again, Jim shifted. His body gave up some muted signs of life and he sighed, "I have to go." 

"Yeah." 

"Hey, when's that paper of yours due in?" 

"Monday. Don't worry, I'll get it done tonight. Piece of cake." 

"Ah, the brilliant student." 

"You don't know I'm brilliant." 

"I do. You are." 

"Yeah?" 

Jim turned and looked at the slightly surprised face, "Yeah. You're also beautiful, did I tell you that?" 

"No," Blair, suddenly shy again, smiled a little. "Really?" 

"Very." Jim gave him a brief kiss, "But I still have to go." 

The smile faded, "Yeah. I guess so." 

Jim waited, some small part of him hoping the man would want to see him again - but even as he did so, he knew it was impossible. To cover his suddenly sharp disappointment, he took a farewell kiss, but as though the bitterness was already flooding through him, this kiss had none of the previous joy in it. As a result, he ended it before it could become obvious to both of them; this ... adventure had been too good for him to spoil it with real life regrets. 

With that, he let the man go and rolled out of bed. He wandered into the bathroom, relieved himself, splashed some water on his face and other parts of his body, dried off, then returned to put on his clothes. Blair was up then, a robe pulled around him. Once Jim was done, he headed for the door, Blair following close behind. 

With his hand on the lock, he paused, turning to face Blair. "Listen, I really enjoyed this." 

"Me too," Blair smiled, his eyes brilliant. 

Jim could only nod, opening the door to let himself out. He was at the top step before that voice made him pause. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Be careful, okay?" 

Jim grinned at the small figure standing in the doorway. "Sure, Chief, always." And then he was jogging down the stairs, some part of his mind registering that his truck was still parked at the bar and hoping nobody had ripped off the tires. 

Another part of him however, remained back in that apartment, back in the arms of a man so special, Jim was sure he'd never be able to forget him. 

* * *

Blair pushed the door closed behind Jim and leaned back on it for a moment, listening to footsteps trudging down the stairs. Then, with a grin on his face, he shuffled into the kitchen, grabbed some juice and went back to bed. Without a thought, he tossed off his robe and climbed back under the covers. 

Some parts of his body still tingled with the remnants of sex and he stretched out, feeling his joints pop, his sinews come alive. 

Yeah, that's exactly how he felt. Tired but alive. 

God! What a night! 

What a man! 

And he'd done it, hadn't he? Finally slept with a man. After all those times when he thought he might and then hadn't. All those nights spent wondering what it would be like and then all those mornings after when he'd realized that he was either chicken or perhaps just not ready. 

But last night - well, he'd had no idea at all that he was _that_ ready. 

It was so nice just lying in bed and ... and feeling it again, remembering, with it all so fresh, having Jim's arms around him - and sundry other parts of his body. 

He giggled. He felt like a teenager again, flushed with his first sexual experience. Of course, in a way he was - and somehow, in amongst all that sensual pleasure, Jim had given that to him, for a second time in his life. 

With a yawn, he glanced at the clock. He could afford another hour in bed - but to be honest, he didn't much feel like sleeping right now. No, right now he felt like having a shower ... oh, and maybe changing the sheets and ... and... yeah, finishing that paper. Actually, a few hours of study before class was _exactly_ what he felt like doing. 

Yep, this gave the term 'sex therapy' a whole new meaning. 

Laughing at himself, he rolled out of bed and set about the day. 

* * *

By the time Jim got to work, he had the compulsion to smile continually almost under control. 

Almost. 

And when Rafe insisted on sharing his latest batch of terrible jokes, Jim - for the first time in his life - laughed. 

He'd never found report-writing so much fun but today, he enjoyed it \- mostly because, at odd moments, some word he'd see or a subtle sound on the air would remind him of Blair in some way and then a whole memory would come back, clean and clear, enriching last night's experience all the more. 

And this morning's. 

So, maybe he was crazy and maybe yes, he would be regretting it plenty very soon - the moment the afterglow wore off - but right now, this morning, even perhaps for the rest of this day, he would just fucking well enjoy it. It had been too damned long since he'd felt this good, since he'd found somebody who could make him feel this good. 

Every man deserved a reprieve at some point, didn't they? 

* * *

Blair sat at the park table, his chin resting on his hand, idly tapping a pen against a book he'd long since forgotten. His gaze drifted across the quad, ostensibly directed at the building opposite, where his office was - but he might have been looking at a conjurer pulling rabbits out of a hat for all the difference it made. 

His thoughts, as they had been over the last week, were all centered around a certain man, who he was, where he lived, what his phone number was - and why in gods name, Blair hadn't asked when he could. 

And hell, he didn't even know the man's last name! He could hardly go traipsing through the doors of Cascade PD, asking for a cop called Jim. He couldn't even be sure that Jim was his real name. 

Of course, said cop hadn't so much as asked to see him again, had he? He could have - and Blair was pretty certain he would have said yes. Then again, maybe it was because Jim _was_ a cop. Maybe he didn't want to take that risk again unless it was necessary. 

And that night a week ago had certainly seemed necessary. In fact, that had been perhaps the strongest feeling Blair had had right in the beginning. The man's need had almost radiated off him. Blair wasn't too proud to admit that that alone, had turned him on something fierce. 

God, even now he could get hard just thinking about being in bed with Jim. For so long he'd wanted it, had come close a few times but always, he'd shrunk away, fearing something he couldn't name. But then last week, this stranger, this cop had uttered those few words and whammo, Blair was there, offering his place, his bed, his body - and there had been not so much as a murmur of hesitation within him. He'd not even felt awkward when the big cop had pushed him against the wall and kissed him or when he'd undressed before the man. No, instead, he'd almost fainted with desire. Like a damned schoolboy! 

And then ... bed and ... the sex ... and ... 

The kiss afterwards. 

Both times. 

He groaned as he felt his face flush once more. Like a dozen times during the week, his body betrayed his memory, conjuring up images he couldn't afford to think about. He'd got so much done, his energy fired up, his mind busy with a million things and then, like now, he'd have a quiet moment and suddenly, his thoughts were consumed in a manner he couldn't ignore. 

Well, what would happen if he _did_ walk into Cascade PD and asked about Jim? It wasn't like he wouldn't be able to give a good description. 

'Tall, gorgeous, perfect body, eyes that look right through you, incredible ass, delicious cock, kisses like a demon.' 

Yeah, right. 

He chuckled at his own silliness. Great idea, Sandburg. And now for my next trick... 

"Hey, Blair?" 

He started and looked up, "Oh, hey, Elise. Take a seat." 

The TA dumped her bag down on the table and sat opposite him. She pulled out a sandwich and commenced unwrapping it. "Can you believe the Board? How's the library going to cope with two less staff? I can't get catalogued items as it is." 

"I can't believe it either. Is Mary leaving?" 

"I think so." Elise shrugged, brushing her blonde curls away from her face. "You just can't ever tell where the axe will fall next, right?" 

"Oh, come on, Elise, Rainier's physics department gets twice the funding the rest of us do. I'll get booted long before you do." 

"Why? They think the sun shines out of you. You're the golden boy, remember?" Elise took a mouthful of bread and planted her elbows on the table. "You still haven't found a research subject, have you?" 

"Oh, I've got hundreds of research subjects - just none of them have the exact thing I'm looking for." 

"Can't you make do?" 

"I guess I'll have to if something doesn't come up soon." Blair sighed and crossed his arms on the table. "To tell you the truth, I haven't given it much thought lately." 

Elise grinned, "So, who's the lucky girl." 

Blair wasn't quite quick enough to hide his reaction - so he tried to cover it instead, "Sorry?" 

"Hey, man, I saw you first thing ... what was it, Friday morning last week? I know you, Blair Sandburg. I know exactly what you look like after you've spent a night shagging your brains out. She must have been pretty special though - judging from the smile on your face. So tell me, who is she? From campus? Do I know her?" 

"Um ..." Blair frowned, unable for once, to gather up enough threads of a lie to make it worth his while. "No. Not from campus." 

"Where did you meet her?" 

Oh god, this was getting impossible. "At ... at a bar." 

"Oh? This place have any nice guys sitting around unattached?" 

Blair almost laughed - but instead, decided to come clean. Elise was about his closest friend on campus. She wouldn't say anything. "Actually, yeah. Or at least, one that I noticed." 

She was a bright girl - but it still took her about half a minute to let Newton's Laws control the penny. 

Her sandwich fell to the table, her jaw almost following it. "Blair!" She breathed, shock whitening her face. "You _didn't_! With a guy? But ... but ... God!" 

Still stunned, she sat back, gazing at Blair with new eyes. Blair kept his silence, almost -but not quite - squirming under that scrutiny. Eventually, she shook her head slightly, leaning forward to say in a hushed whisper. "I know you said, maybe a year ago, that you wouldn't mind trying it on with a guy, but you know, I never thought you'd actually do it! But then, I suppose there was that Sean, last summer? You and he seemed like you would get it together but you never said anything and I thought maybe you didn't want to talk about it or that maybe you had done it and you'd decided it was a mistake or something but ... you didn't, did you? With Sean?" 

"No," Blair shook his head, doing his best to calmly fold his hands together on the table. With any luck, this ordeal would be over soon. 

"So," Elise murmured after a moment, pausing to pop open a can of coke. "You slept with this guy last week. How was it?" 

"How was it?" Blair repeated, somewhat disbelieving. 

"Yeah," Elise shrugged, apparently over her shock now. "Was it good?" 

"It was ..." Blair tried to pick through the words he'd used to describe it to himself over the last week. "Amazing. _He_ was amazing." 

"Uh huh. And um... was it what you thought? What you wanted?" 

Blair's gaze dropped to the table as his mind drifted back to that morning and the incredible feeling of ... freedom he'd felt in Jim's arms. Somehow those few precious moments had given him back his thirst for his work. One passion had led him back to another. His hunger had returned. "More than that. A lot more." 

"Has he called you? You seeing him again?" 

Blair looked away, unable to answer. Why, why hadn't he asked for that? Because Jim's aspect seemed to forbid such a question? Was that it? Or had he been waiting for Blair to ask? 

Damnit! 

"Blair?" Elise's soft voice drifted to him, "You haven't gone and fallen for him, have you?" 

His gaze snapped back to her, "Don't be silly! It was just a one night stand thing. God, it may have been my first time with a guy but I _have_ been around a little. I know better than to fall in love at the drop of a hat. Come on, Elise, if you're going to pry, at least be clever about it." 

Her gaze remained steady, as though she didn't believe a word of what he'd just said - but she didn't remark on it. Instead, she said, "So you're not still seeing him?" 

"No. Like I said, he was only looking for a one nighter, you know?" 

"And what were you looking for?" Blair rolled his eyes and she held up her hands, "Okay, okay, I get it." She glanced down at her sandwich with distaste before wrapping it up again. She took another mouthful of coke then, her voice mild, she asked, "So, you lose your cherry?" 

"What?" Blair nearly leapt off the seat, laughter bubbling up inside him nonetheless. 

Elise only shrugged. "Well, you can't blame a girl for asking. I'm just curious, you know? I don't know any gay guys well enough to go into intimate details. You just hear so many stories about how sex between two guys is better than anything else and ..." 

"What stories?" Blair was confused now and played along with it, hoping to keep her questions away from more intimate details. 

"You know, blow jobs, anal sex and all that. Like I said, I'm just curious. It's the scientist in me." She said this with such a disarming grin, Blair couldn't help but grin back at her, relenting a little. She saw that and nodded, "So? What did you do?" 

I sucked him off and then I fucked him. And the next morning we held each other and it was so beautiful and the feel of his cock in my mouth was ... 

The words sat on the tip of his tongue and the truth was, he would have uttered them if he'd thought for one minute that it might put her off \- or that in doing so, he would have ruined something of the special intimacy surrounding those acts. But he _did_ know her - certainly well enough to know that her curiosity knew no bounds and that, regardless of what he said, she would want more and more details. 

So instead, he chose a different tangent, one he could live with for the moment. "He didn't fuck me, if that's what your getting at." 

"Oh? Why not?" 

Blair laughed in disbelief, "We didn't get around to it, okay? Come on, Elise, give me a break. Do I ask you details of your sex life?" 

"I'd tell you if you asked." 

"Which is exactly why I don't ask. Please, leave it alone? 

"Okay," she shrugged, "And I won't tell, either, in case you were wondering. I have no desire to be the bearer of such bad tidings to the female population of this fine establishment. Too many broken hearts in one day is bad for our rep." 

"Thanks," Blair replied dryly. 

"Unless ... Was this a one-off for you too?" 

"I dunno. Maybe." Maybe. Unless I can find Jim again somehow. The idea of just going out and picking up another guy seemed to cheapen what he'd already had. 

"So, it wasn't _that_ good?" 

"No," Blair sighed, getting to his feet. He pulled his pack over his shoulder and waited for her to stand as well. "That's the problem. It _was_ that good." 

"Oh. I'm sorry, Blair." 

"Yeah," he breathed, taking the comfort she offered. "So am I, Elise, so am I." 

* * *

Long shadows pulled across the loft floor, drawing sharp patterns Jim was all too familiar with. He sat on the end of the couch, elbow on the arm, chin in his hand, his gaze drifting from the room out into the city sky. 

It was cold again tonight, but he'd left the balcony doors open, the air more preferable for some reason, to that which stifled him here. 

It was quiet. More quiet than it normally was but it was enough. Enough for him to think in, to remember. To forget. 

A broken promise. Said simply like that, it didn't seem so terrible, did it? A promise given under pressure, when it hadn't seemed possible that he might want to break it. Still, whatever the conditions, he'd broken it anyway without hardly even thinking about it. He'd certainly not gone out that night looking to get laid. 

And promise or not, that hadn't stopped him. What was the point of making promises if they were that easy to break? Or was it that people made promises because they were so hard to keep? 

He'd paid for it. Every day. Hardly a thought went by without some guilt attached to it. 

At least his senses had let him alone, though. This time. 

Just how, exactly, had he allowed it to get this bad? The last week had been clear of the terrifying sensory spikes he'd suffered for the last year - but there was no chance they might have gone completely. Over the last few months, the regularity had increased and sometimes, the severity as well. They still lasted for only a few moments at a time \- and so the number of people who had noticed anything was small. Still. But then, how many people knew the signs surrounding a man slowly sinking into insanity? Wasn't it only after he'd mown down a room full of strangers that people said, hey, he was always a little strange. 

Wise after the fact. The story of his life. Always after the fact. 

Why had his sanity decided to betray him? Sure, he'd had a traumatic time in Peru - but he'd had debriefing and some counseling - was that any reason for his brain to turn sour on him? 

How much time did he have left? Months? Weeks? 

Days? 

Would he know? Would he be aware of it when his hallucinations finally took over, when the input was so enormous he ran and hid from it inside, where it was safe? 

He wasn't afraid to admit he was scared. The fear clawed at him night and day, eating away at his confidence, his concentration, his belief in some kind of future. 

It was the not knowing that was the worst. Not knowing and not understanding what was happening to him. He'd long since given up on a cure. Understanding might not fix anything, but it would make his last months as a sane man a little easier to bear. 

It was too late now. 

Wise after the fact. Always after the fact. 

Act first, regret later. 

A soft voice echoed through the empty loft, murmurs of something he'd never known existed. But it couldn't exist, not really, not for him - even though, for a few hours, he'd pretended it could, that he'd held it in his arms and wouldn't have to let go later. 

Blair. 

The name was a breath of air into lungs starved of life. On his lips so many times over the last week, in his dreams, his waking moments. 

And if he'd never let it get this bad, he would never have gone out that night, never have met the man, never have seen, for a few hours, the one thing he could never have. 

* * *

With his marking all up to date, the paper long since sent in, and no desire to go idly dating, Blair had no reason to play hooky at the bar again. Instead, he went because he wanted to play pool. He needed to. Needed something that might take his mind off his own stupidity. 

Of course, telling Elise all about Jim that day hadn't helped. Instead, it had only brought it all back so much more forcefully. By the time he got home, he'd been half-hard for an hour or more, by the simple expedient of trying _not_ to think about the feel of Jim's body against his. When he'd climbed into the shower, he'd refused to give in, turning the water cold rather than give in to what his cock wanted. The last thing he needed right now was to obsess about a guy he'd never see again. He just had too much else on his plate these days. 

Finding a sentinel to study being a major one. 

But still, even as he dressed in his favourite blue shirt, even as he chose the right jeans to go with them, chunky brown boots and silver earrings - even as he combed his hair into submission, he couldn't quite make himself believe that there was a slim, if outside possibility that Jim might walk through those doors once again. 

As if defying logic, he pulled his hair back and tied it up. He'd rather have left it down, but he couldn't play like that and somebody would remark on it. They already thought he was queer simply because it was long. Not that they were bothered by that. His supposed queerness ranked alongside Barnie's old boxing days and Deano's stories of long-haul trucking. Just a part of the furniture. 

Funny though, that they'd made that assumption about him all that time without it ever being true - and now that it was, he wanted to prove it wasn't. 

Well, okay, he wasn't queer as such. Bi, certainly but not queer. Not the way they thought at least. 

God damm it! Why was he avoiding the place? He could have gone down there twice since that night with Jim - and now that he'd made the decision to go, he was standing here, fiddling with his hair instead. This wasn't a date! This wasn't even going to lead him to Jim - so what the fuck difference did it make what he looked like! This was his local - and he wanted a beer and a game of pool. Nothing else! 

Okay, he wasn't so stupid he couldn't laugh at himself - but still, it took some determination to grab his coat and walk down to the street. 

Had Jim been thinking about him? Did Jim have the same kind of memories of him? Would Jim look back on that night with the same sense of tenderness that Blair did? Or, was he, the virgin, taking all this to be something so much more than it was? 

But it _had_ been special - and the look in Jim's eyes told him so. 

No, he couldn't afford to obsess - but it seemed way too late to stop it. He turned the corner and automatically scanned the cars parked outside \- not that it would do him any good. He had no idea what kind of car Jim drove. 

Yeah, he was being a complete idiot. 

A little beyond laughing at himself now, he turned and pushed the door open. He gave himself the moment he needed to scan the crowd, to make sure Jim wasn't there - then he forced himself to relax. At the bar he was greeted by his friends, handed a beer and challenged to a game, just like every other night over the last year. But he racked the balls up with a growing sense of unease, as though the fifty or so people in the place knew he'd come here hoping to see one man in particular, hoping to take him home and hoping to go to bed with him again. 

He played badly. Deano didn't comment however. Not until he'd lost twenty bucks. Then the big guy shook his head, bought him a beer and suggested he might want to just practice for a while. Blair slid his cue along the table as the other man walked off, feeling more than an idiot now. But Deano was a good guy, refusing to take advantage of Blair when he was obviously off his game - so Blair swallowed his beer and briefly considered spending the night getting drunk - but that was so much the behavior of a man in love, that he couldn't quite bring himself to make that decision so he just stood there, by the pool table, hoping somebody else would ask for a game and as a result, he was in full view of the door when it opened and Jim walked in. 

For one, tiny moment, Blair thought he was imaging things, wishing so hard that he'd made his eyes see something that wasn't there. But no. The tall cop had gone to the bar, exchanged a few words with Deano and Barnie and was then walking towards the pool table, an icy bottle forgotten in his hand, warm blue eyes drinking in Blair instead. 

Blair's knees felt weak. He reached out and gripped the table for support, waiting until Jim reached him before allowing himself to breathe. The other man wore faded blue jeans that fit snugly without being tight with a shirt that looked teal green in this light, shoulders more than filling out the dark, thigh-length jacket. 

"Hi," that low voice stole welcome into him, speaking Blair's own words of a week long of wondering and cursing and hoping and wishing. 

"Hi," he managed in reply - just. Then, his hand shaking a little, he took a mouthful from his own bottle, seeing Jim's eyes follow the movement and he knew, just knew as sure as he was sitting there that wishes did come true because there would be another night together - maybe just one more but yes, it would happen, tonight, that every incredible feeling he'd experienced that night last week hadn't been him alone, but both of them, together. 

"Ten bucks?" Jim said, amazingly levelly, Blair thought. 

"Why not?" he replied, the shaking in his hand fading away. He set the balls up, unable to turn off the amazing sense of connection he felt. Though Jim stood behind him, he could almost feel the man's presence. He even felt when Jim moved closer, apparently to help with the rack. 

"You look good, Chief. _Really_ good." 

The simple words sent a frisson of anticipation though him, like a thunderbolt. 

"You smell good, too." 

Blair's heart was pounding like a jackhammer, but he finished and picked up his cue without batting an eyelid - at least, none that Jim could see. Then he stepped back, leaning against the wall at the end of the table, folding his arms. With a smile, he said, "Challenger breaks." 

Jim looked at him, at where he was standing - and then at the table. A slow, soft flush appeared on his cheeks but still, he nodded. He took a cue down from the wall, left his beer on the wall shelf and walked around the table until he stood with his back to Blair. As he bent over to line up his shot, Blair murmured, "Yeah, you look good, too, Jim." 

He heard a loud swallow, saw a slight stiffening of those powerful shoulders \- and then Jim took his shot. He straightened up and turned around, his face perfectly composed - but there was something deep and raw and untamed in those pale eyes which spoke directly to something equally raw and deep inside Blair. "One game, Chief. Just one - or I won't be responsible." 

Those words shot through Blair like a steel spike, hitting his throat and groin with simultaneous force. "One game," he swallowed, nodding, moving, quickly, to take his shot. One game. Yeah, right. Get the balls in the pockets, get the fuck out of here and go ... go ... fuck. 

Inside he was laughing at himself again - nothing could have stopped him now. It seemed insane that a man - that any man - could make him feel like this. The truth was, if he'd met a man like this earlier, he would have been sleeping with men a lot sooner. But this man _did_ make him feel like this and he had no answers as to why, no way of guessing what the chemistry was because never before had _anyone_ made him want something so bad. 

Blair played one bad shot after another however - and Jim, well, Jim was about as useless. 

Seemed they both had something else on their minds. 

"Whose idea was this?" Blair asked after a frustrating half hour. "I'm ruining my reputation, here." 

"When all I want to do is ruin it in another way entirely," Jim replied softly, taking his next shot. The reluctant ball dawdled towards the pocket and paused, hovering. Blair was just close enough to it to reach out and nudge it with his finger without anybody in the place seeing. It dropped and he glanced up with his best innocent expression. 

Jim was watching him, trying to hide his smile. "Yep, you're definitely no hustler. Um ... back pocket." 

"Sorry?" 

Jim lifted his head and gave him a flat look. 

Blair raised his eyebrows and shifted to his left, "You mean this back pocket?" 

Jim growled. 

"Or this one?" Blair moved to what he knew was the correct one. He waited until Jim had the shot lined up before he spoke again, "You know, some guys get horribly physical if they think there's cheating going on." 

"Oh, they do, I promise you." Jim tapped the white ball and the colour rolled towards Blair. Even though it was going to miss by a mile, it abruptly changed direction and plopped down into the required pocket, seemingly all by itself. "Mmmn, not a bad shot, even if I do say so myself." 

"You should play competition, Jim," Blair replied deadpan. "You've got a real talent there. Two more." 

"What do I win?" Jim queried without pausing. He aced the next one all on his own - but the last required some gentle ... encouragement. 

"I'm sure I can find something at home that will do." As Blair watched the final ball disappear, his guts twisted again, want and fear rising up in him, folding together like a DNA molecule. When Jim's hand appeared before him, he gazed up a little foolishly. 

"Shake my hand, Chief - then let's get the hell out of here." 

"Right, right." Blair shook his hand, feeling warmth there, a tingling which ran all the way up his arm. He wanted to hold on, but he didn't. Instead, he emptied his beer, took the bottle to the bar and pulled on his coat, saying goodnight. Just like last week. 

This time however, he waited around the corner. He stood there, collar pulled up about his neck, leaning against a brick wall, hands thrust into his pockets. He didn't move when he heard the footsteps approach, something like ten minutes later. Then Jim was there, coming to a halt before him. Blair took one look at the hungry eyes gazing down at him and murmured, "Looking for a good time, Mister?" 

Jim's jaw clenched a moment, then he nodded, "Move, Chief, before you force me to commit a felony." 

Blair moved. 

* * *

[Continued in part two](moreand_a.html).

Link to text version: http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=firsts3/moreand_a.html 


	2. Chapter 2

This story has been split into four part for easier loading.

## More And Less

by Jack Reuben Darcy

Author's webpage: <http://internetdump.com/users/angiet>

Author's notes and disclaimer can be found in part one. 

* * *

More and Less - part two   
By Jack Reuben Darcy 

It took so much will-power to keep his hands to himself, Jim was amazed. He'd worried that he might not be able to manage it, that somewhere during the game he'd betray his desire to the entire bar by pulling the young man to him and kissing the life out of him. 

God, just seeing him there ... just knowing he was so close ... Finding him there after a week full of wondering and regrets and stuff he couldn't begin to think about right now. And he couldn't afford to think about them now, about promises broken not once, now but twice. Of dangers and senses and insanity. 

No. Time for something else. 

So much will-power. 

But he _had_ kept his hands to himself. And he'd followed some minutes behind - but finding Blair leaning back against the wall like some ... wild and wanton hooker was almost the end of him. 

They walked in silence. Jim didn't trust himself to speak. All that will-power was channeled into keeping his hands off the man until they were safely inside. He was a cop - and there were laws against such behavior. For the first time he understood why. 

The journey to the door seemed endless though. Cold air wrapped around his heated face but he felt little of it. Instead, he kept his concentration on where he was putting his feet, turning when Blair turned, going up steps and into the building, climbing three flights of stairs and waiting while Blair got his keys out, unlocked the door but then, then he lost it completely. 

And he wasn't alone. 

Before they'd even closed the door, Jim grabbed Blair, pulling him close, feeling strong hands hold him and then their mouths joined and flavours exploded against his awareness, bright and delicious and this time, rather than shrink from them, Jim explored, savoring each one, allowing his senses to rise to the occasion and not minding at all. Deeper and deeper the kiss dived as coats were stripped off, shirt buttons threatened, as hands struggled to get the first touch of flesh. 

Giddy and desperate, Jim gripped Blair's ass, grinding their bodies together like a madman. How could he get enough of this? How could he have stayed away for a whole week? How had he done any work at all, damnit? Blair's mouth was hot, steaming up his reasoning, frying his logic. All he knew was that he wanted this, needed this. But was it Blair? Or was it just ... suppressed sexual tension or the male thing or ... 

But questions paled as Blair tore his mouth away, gasped in needy breathes, held Jim's face between his hands. They were both already way too hard for this to last more than five minutes. Christ, had the kid been feeling the same thing all week? 

Dusky blue eyes gazed at him, pupils black with desire, "Jim?" 

"Mmmn?" 

"Can you let me go?" 

"No, Chief, I don't think I can." Jim laughed a little and Blair's eyes danced. 

"Just long enough for me to close the front door?" 

With a guilty glance, Jim released him. Blair smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry, man, you're not on your own here." He pushed the door shut then turned back to Jim, keeping a foot or so distance between them. 

No, he wasn't as beautiful as Jim remembered - he was more so. In sudden wonder, he raised a hand, his fingers drifting down the side of that amazing face with a gentleness that surprised him. 

Seven long days and nights. So many hours spent cursing his inability to forget. But it wasn't so simple any more. It hadn't been for a long time. And ... should he try to explain it to Blair? To the man who stood before him now, wanting clear in every line of his body? 

No. But neither could he afford to do this again. After tonight, he would just have to stay away. He'd promised, hadn't he? And wasn't he a man of his word? It was just too damned dangerous, too . . . wrong . . . and if he didn't, then . . . 

"Jim? Is anything wrong?" 

"No," he shook his head, focussing completely on what he had before him, while he could. "Been thinking about you." 

The look that filled Blair's eyes then shocked him to the core, made him, for a few moments at least, desperately want to forget his promise. 

He'd never seen a look like that before. Ever. He would have noticed. It was, after all, the kind of look every human being wanted to see in someone's eyes at some time in their lives. 

But he said nothing. Instead, he leaned down and kissed the man, using his mouth to direct the questioning, guide the conversation, explain, in simple gestures, how much that look meant to him. 

Blair melted into his arms, the terrible urgency abated for a moment. Instead, this was sweet and tender, just as he'd dreamt it would be and his insides did a flip. Blair's body felt so good against his, so natural. Blair's scent was busy creeping into his awareness, flipping his memory back to last week and their first time together. Blair's voice held him in the present, promising so much more. 

The kiss anchored him. His senses were sharpened yes, but in no danger of flying off and away. 

When he could, he took Blair's hand and let himself be led, not to the bedroom but into the living room. Steering him to the couch, Blair pushed him back, making him sit. Then, his gaze steady, Blair sat astride him, settling onto his lap. He put his arms around Jim's neck and proceeded to kiss him again, this time allowing the heat to build between them slowly. 

Jim's hands were free - but not for long. They roamed over Blair's back, reacquainting themselves with the feel of him, the strength of him and the determined presence of him. Then down further, to run his fingers along the seam of his jeans, and more, down to his legs to feel firm thighs. Up again then, as Blair took one kiss after another, feeding the flames. Up to brush thumbs over the hard heat in the front. 

Blair paused, looking at him and Jim swept his thumbs across that hardness again. Blair's eyes closed a little and he took a deep breath, as if trying to contain himself, then proceeded to undo the buttons of Jim's shirt one at a time. As Blair's hands slipped into to caress his skin, Jim's own hands continued moving, inside Blair's shirt to tease nipples too long away from his touch. 

Blair moaned softly. The sound was like music to Jim. He'd missed this their first time, missed taking Blair these places slowly. Blair had had no experience with men - and there was so much Jim wanted to show him, wanted him to experience, wanted to share with him the joys of male sex. He wanted to do that now, wanted to make the most of this second \- and last - time. So he peeled the shirt away, slipping it from first one, then the other wrist. With Blair still attached to him, he deepened the kiss and let his hands fall to the jeans. Once again he let his thumbs press against that hardness, scraping his nail across the denim to feel Blair shudder. Then one button at a time and the fly opened. Without pausing, he dipped his fingers inside to brush against heated flesh. 

Blair's thighs clenched at his touch. He broke away and sat back a little, to gaze steadily at Jim. 

"Stand up," Jim whispered. 

Blair stood. Jim leaned forward and pulled the jeans down, waiting as Blair kicked off shoes and socks, unable to stop himself drinking in the sight of that body. Then he pulled the man back onto his lap, letting his hands at last feel the naked skin he'd craved so much over the last week. 

"Tell me if you get cold, okay?" 

"Uh huh." Blair was watching him, his gaze a little unsteady, arms once more around Jim's neck. 

With a faint smile, Jim reached out and let his fingers trace the shape of Blair's testicles, fondling them gently, pulling them a little, reaching behind just enough to make Blair hiss in air. Then his hands moved up, sinking into the rich hair, all the while their eyes never leaving each other. 

Yes, he would do this slowly. For both their sakes. 

With a happy sigh, Jim leaned forward and lapped his tongue across the nearest nipple. A shiver ran down Blair's back but vanished the moment Jim took that ready cock in his hand. His thumb collected the drops of moisture from the head, and he used it to lubricate his slow pumps. 

Blair moved on his lap, tiny hitching involuntary thrusts to meet what Jim was doing. He could see it was taking some degree of will-power for the man to keep so still and as reward, he suckled the other nipple. 

With Blair breathing heavily now, he rested back, bringing one hand up to touch Blair's face again. He sent a single finger across those perfect lips and they opened before him, sucking his finger inside, making Jim shudder with his own need. Blair sent his tongue all over before Jim withdrew. Again, his eyes firmly fixed on Blair's, Jim moved his moist finger behind Blair, brushing it over his virgin opening. 

Blair shook. Once. Just once. His pupils dilated, his mouth stayed open in anticipation and Jim knew it wasn't from fear or discomfort. Another brush and Blair was stiff in his arms, unable to ask for what he wanted, hoping Jim would give it to him anyway. 

He pressed the finger to the pucker, exerting the smallest amount of force. Gradually, slowly, it gave way to his invasion until he was buried to the first knuckle. 

"Okay?" he whispered. Words seemed an intrusion - but he needed to ask. 

"Uh huh," Blair nodded, eyes closed, face tense with expectancy. Carefully, Jim pushed his finger in further, easing it slowly, letting Blair become accustomed to it. 

Blair shook once more as Jim's finger slid home inside him. Jim found he was holding his breath and only released it when Blair leaned forward once more, kissing him again, showing his readiness. 

Happy now, Jim withdrew his finger and eased Blair from his lap. He stood up. "Lie down." 

The naked Blair did as he was told and Jim grabbed a spare cushion. He dropped it on the floor then knelt beside the young man, stealing tiny kisses before moving further down. His finger once more teased the opening. Blair spread his legs, propping one knee up against the back of the couch, letting the other hang over the side. 

So open to this, so trusting. Once again, Jim was filled with gratitude that he'd been the one to show Blair these pleasures. He knew how much he wanted to do this carefully, making sure that it _was_ a pleasure. His own introduction to male sex had been anything but and it had taken him a long time to undo that damage. 

His finger entered Blair's hole again and this time, he pushed in further, easing out before pushing in again. He leaned forward and placed small kisses on the flat stomach, drinking his fill of Blair's responses. "You ever had this before? Done it to yourself?" 

"No," Blair murmured. 

"You like it?" 

"Oh, yeah." 

Jim could only smile. The young man's face was flushed, his eyes wide and everything about him screamed a need Jim knew he could fulfill. Taking a breath, he ducked his head and sent his tongue along the length of Blair's cock. 

"Oh, Jim!" Blair's hands flew to his head, holding him there. Without pausing, Jim opened wide and took the cock into his mouth, sucking gently, teasing a little before sucking again. He pushed his finger in further, searching for and finding that little button he knew was there. When he touched it, Blair almost exploded off the couch, almost choked him. 

Carefully holding down a hip with his free hand, Jim proceeded to finger-fuck Blair, enjoying the feel of the silky channel, sucking on his cock with a rhythm demanded by his need. Slow and slow, a little faster, then slower again, every now and then, allowing the faintest touch of his teeth to be felt. 

God, this cock tasted almost too good. Jim's own erection strained against his jeans and he let his hand free only long enough to undo his fly to release himself. Almost instantly, Blair's hand flew to him, just touching, just feeling and Jim returned to his task. 

When Blair began to moan, his voice husky with want, Jim sped up the action, his finger brushing that prostate again and again as his mouth worked at the over-heated shaft. The cock was continuously leaking pre-cum now and he drank it down, greedy again, ravenous. He would have it this time; this time he would taste this man in all his glory. 

Blair thrashed about on the couch now, his hand jerking Jim's cock, bringing him dangerously close himself. And then suddenly, without warning, Blair bucked into him and the first shot of semen hit the back of his throat. Thirsty, Jim drank and drank. As the taste flowed into him, he pushed into Blair's hand and his own climax ripped out of him, firing all his neurons with a single shattering explosion. 

He hadn't realized Blair's cock was still in his mouth until he tried to talk. Giving it a last dizzy swipe with his tongue, he released it before looking up to see that beautiful face. 

Hair stuck to a wide forehead sprinkled with sweat. Blue, glazed eyes regarded him with something bordering on awe - and Jim almost burst out laughing. "That good, huh?" 

"Man, you are... C'm'ere." 

Jim climbed onto the couch, spread himself out along the sated body and drank again of Blair's taste. Kissing this man was a sweet luxury, a privilege and again, there was the same solemnity in it as there had been the other times, a place touched inside him that had been too long in the dark. 

A week ago he'd known this could become addictive. And he'd been right. This mouth, this body, this man had so quickly got way too deep under his skin. Giving him up now would be almost impossible. 

But he had no choice. 

"Jim?" 

"Mmmn?" 

"If you take your clothes off and come to bed with me, I promise to make it worth your while." 

"You want more?" Jim asked in mock horror. 

Blair simply laughed, the sound something Jim had longed to hear over the last week. "Come on, you great lump. Get off me before I suffocate." 

"But you're such a comfortable little bed." 

"Hey, them's dangerous words! I could make you pay for that-" 

Jim chose action instead of words, kissing that mouth into submission. Only when things warmed up again, did he decide that perhaps Blair was right and he did indeed need to get a little more naked. 

* * *

They moved slowly together, almost gently, naked flesh teased with silky sweat and desire too full for urgency. Blair's free hand caressed Jim's chest, feeling the heavy muscle, the strong heart beating beneath, the delicious twist of flesh at each aroused nipple. With each thrust inside Jim, he felt the man almost shift closer to him until they seemed in his mind, to be one body, one person, one creature lying on its side, writhing so slowly together, no words spoken, none needed. 

He could feel Jim's arm move beneath his, felt the man turn his head awkwardly for a kiss which Blair was desperate to give. He wished he'd left the light on because he wanted to see that look in Jim's eyes, that need clear in the pale blue, wanted to see that hand stroking his cock as his ass was being fucked - but he couldn't stop and put the light on so he dropped his own hand to let his fingers feel out what Jim was doing to himself. 

And all so slowly, so carefully, as though neither of them wanted to miss anything this time, as though each push forward into Jim was a new experience, as each withdrawal was the first time. 

He loved the feel of Jim's cock, loved the taste which still lingered on his lips. 

He could hear himself moaning, deep in his throat. The effort to move, to fuck almost seemed too much but he was driven by his own need for completion, this ass so welcoming and hot, this body so beautiful, this man so perfect ... 

And he wanted _this_ , wanted the cock beneath his fingers to be doing this to him, wanted to be lying there as Jim fucked him slowly, as Jim held him, as Jim kissed him. Wanted to watch Jim fucking him, to see that need in his eyes. 

Wanted Jim to see his own need. 

Jim took his hand and placed it over his cock, urging his touch. As Blair felt the solid shaft beneath his fingers, Jim's hand reached behind, catching Blair's hip, bringing him closer, deeper inside. Then the long arm reached further, caressing Blair's ass and the words almost fell from Blair then, almost, would have if his body hadn't demanded so much then, if the movement hadn't driven him so close. 

Slowly, slowly he crept to the edge, stayed there, hovering, waiting for nothing but inevitability. Even as he fucked the man, he knew this was a gift, that this was something Jim hadn't done not only for a long time - but not often before this. So it _was_ special - for both of them. Special and beautiful and careful and slow and easy, so very easy being here, pleasuring each other, taking and giving that pleasure. 

He heard the quick intake of air from Jim, deliberately angled his next thrust to make the most of it. But then Jim groaned, saying his name out loud and that was too much, way too much and the low, sexy noise sent Blair away, blasting his climax out of him in sweet slow-motion, sending it into Jim in the same way, and he felt the other man join him, felt his hand covered in sweet cream and still they moved together, slowly, so slowly. 

* * *

At 3am, it was cold - as he'd expected. Cold and quiet. 

He moved silently in the dark night, hoping to let Blair sleep as long as possible - but it seemed the young man was too attuned to his movements, too aware of the other presence in his bed. He'd barely sat up before a hand brushed down his arm, a sleepy voice murmuring into the darkness. 

"Jim? You okay? Something wrong?" 

Oh yeah, more than I can say. 

Jim squeezed the hand, trying to keep the regret from his voice, "I can't stay tonight, Chief. I have to get going." 

"Oh." 

Jim was glad it was dark - he wasn't sure he'd be able to leave at all if he had to see the disappointment which came out with that word. 

As he rose from their bed, a familiar pleasant ache reminded him of what he was walking away from - but he'd resolved to do this and choice, that greatest of freedoms, simply wasn't his. 

Hadn't been for a long time. 

This . . . this adventure had been an interlude, no more. He'd known that in the beginning, knew it now - would feel it the more harshly later. 

He had no choice at all. 

Jim got up and found his jeans. He pulled them on then slipped his feet into his shoes. As he cast around for his shirt, Blair switched on the lamp. Jim closed his eyes for a moment but determined not to look around yet. 

"You have to work?" 

"Now?" Jim found his shirt and shook his head. "No." 

"But you have to go?" 

"Yes." 

A moment's pause - then, "Why?" 

Jim clenched his jaw, clenched everything inside him down to where he could cope with it. "I just have to. I'm sorry." 

"I ... um ... Will I see you again?" 

Jim's movement came to a halt. For long seconds, he said nothing. Words, reasons, promises and so many other things fled though his mind but none of them would work, none of them would make a difference to that hopefully tentative note in Blair's voice. 

Inside, he was screaming. 

Yes. 

Please. 

Yes. 

Then he was suddenly tucking his shirt into his jeans, doing them up blindly. "No." 

Blair sank back onto the bed and Jim heard the sigh, heard so many things that weren't being said between them. 

The silence was all the condemnation Jim needed. 

He was dressed and no longer had an excuse to keep his back to Blair. But when he turned, he saw the one thing he'd hoped vainly would be missing from Blair's face. 

Hurt. 

The young man was trying to hide it, of course, keeping his gaze firmly on the ceiling - but his hands gave him away as one twisted the sheet into a hard knot. 

Without thinking, Jim moved to the side of the bed, knelt down beside Blair and reached out to stroke the hair back from his face. Blair flinched a little but didn't move. 

He couldn't help it. It seemed he had no choice about this either - so he gave in and kissed Blair's lips, feeling resistance for a moment before Blair moaned softly, turning towards him, opening, saying goodbye in his own way. It was the kind of kiss that left scars on a man. 

Finally able to tear himself away, Jim sat back a little, "Chief?" 

"What?" 

"I ..." What? What did he want to say? 

What could he afford to say? 

"Hey, Jim, if you have to go, go. It's cool." These words came out evenly, but the ease was forced and all those things inside Jim knotted together as if they were the sheet in Blair's hands. "And if, you know, if that's it, well . . . I understand." 

"Do you?" 

Blair sat up on his elbow, pushing his hair back, his gaze searching out and latching onto Jim's. The blue there nearly stole his resolve away. "Yeah, I get it. I, um, guess ... being a cop and everything ... can't be easy being gay. Closed societies and all that, right?" 

"Yeah," Jim nodded, his reply distracted not only by what he was seeing, but by what he was feeling. 

This wasn't supposed to feel like this. Wasn't casual sex supposed to be just that? Casual? No ties, no emotions, no questions and no answers... 

But if it had been so damned casual, why the hell had he come back for more, knowing full well what he would find? 

Wanting _exactly_ what he knew he would find. 

This had stopped being casual about five seconds after he'd first walked into this apartment a week ago. 

Blair was searching his face again, looking for something he didn't name. Then his face clouded over a little, "Sorry, I guess I'm assuming here. I have a bad habit of doing that. I just really enjoyed this and I guess I hoped you'd ... you know ... want to ..." He twisted up his face, trying to make a smile - and managing something like that. "But, that's cool. You better go, right?" 

For every moment they'd spent together, Jim had uttered a silent prayer, grateful that Blair had this inability to hide how he felt - but now it served neither of them. For every attempt Blair made to understand drove another spike through Jim. Every attempt Blair made to hide, only made it worse. 

Jim sat back on his haunches, keeping his hands to himself. "Chief," he began carefully, "if I had a choice ..." God, was there any truth he could tell the man? Anything to stop this? 

"Jim, don't." Blair sat up, shaking his head, "Like I said, I understand and you've got your career and everything and look, you know, I'm a student, it doesn't make any difference to my life but I'm lucky, much luckier than most other people and I do understand, Jim and if that's it, then I'm cool with it but I really don't want to know that you _would_ see me again if you could because really, that wouldn't help, you know, especially if you didn't really mean it and .... well - " 

"I'm married." The words were out before he could stop them, driven by a need he'd been a slave to the moment he'd met this man. 

Blair stared at him, eyes abruptly wide. With a sudden groan, he flopped back onto the bed, "Oh god." 

Jim could only sit there and watch, having done so much that he'd promised himself he wouldn't do - but at least, at the very least, Blair would know some of the truth, however small, that it wasn't some sort of sly excuse but something real and solid and shameful - but at least it was Jim, not Blair. 

For long seconds Blair just lay there, saying nothing. Then abruptly, he rolled away and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a robe and hurried out of the bedroom and Jim saw a light in the kitchen snap on, heard a kettle placed on the stove, a mug snapped down on the bench. 

Moving slowly now, Jim grabbed his jacket, pulling it on. Then, ignoring how he felt, ignoring the fact that his feet didn't want to move - he went into the hall and stopped in the kitchen doorway. 

"I should have guessed," Blair grunted, his back to Jim. "The best ones are always married or gay - only in your case, you're both, right? And still I can't win." 

"Blair, please..." 

"What? You didn't expect me to be angry? Why not? If you'd thought for one minute that I was okay fucking a married man, why didn't you just come out and say right in the beginning? 'Hey, wanna go somewhere, oh and by the way, I'm married. I hope you don't mind.'" 

"Blair ..." 

The young man poured water into the mug but instead of drinking, he just gripped the bench, his anger making his hands tremble. "Oh, come on, Jim! Give me some credit here. So, I was just the convenient fuck on the side, fine. You want to betray your marriage vows, that's your responsibility, not mine. But to be honest, I'd really rather not know how you can go from my bed to hers in the space of an hour, okay?" 

Jim took a deep breath, "I haven't been with Carolyn for almost a year." 

"Oh?" Blair gave a harsh, bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, so what am I supposed to say to that, eh? Jeesh, Jim, just ... just..." He gulped in air then, holding onto the bench. Jim just wanted to hold him. "Just get the fuck out of here!" 

"Chief," Jim couldn't stop himself. He moved up behind the angry man, placing his hands on rigid shoulders, the touch doing little to ease the pain inside him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you ..." 

"Didn't mean? Oh, man! You are so full of shit! I know it was a one-night-stand and tonight was a kind of bonus lay, right? Like, I didn't go to Barnie's tonight hoping to see you there or anything." 

"No?" Jim's voice came out soft as somewhere inside him, the urge to communicate something of value surfaced. "I definitely went there hoping to see _you_." 

"Why?" Blair whirled around. "You've got a wife at home! You're making me into some kind of home-wrecker - and you know, I've always promised myself I'd never do that, never! And that's not fair because _I_ didn't know and I thought we had ... I thought there was something happening here, something good ... But I didn't know and you did and you still put me in this position, so come on, Jim, explain it to me! Christ, I know I'm probably way over-reacting here, but I can't help it okay?" He grabbed Jim's shirt with one hand, the other reaching up to touch his face, voice catching, softening. "I can't help it .... She has you \- but _I_ want you!" 

Jim almost broke then - as Blair sucked in a breath of horror that he had revealed so much and even as a part of Jim rejoiced, the rest of him sank further. 

"I just want to know why," Blair whispered into the silence. He needed to know, needed to be sure that whatever had happened between them wasn't just him. 

"Why?" Jim replied, his voice betraying all he was trying to hide. "Because for the last week, I've been able to think of nothing else but making love to you again." 

Blair closed his eyes and shook his head in mute refusal. Jim's whole body resisted his leaving, fought against every message he gave it to just turn and walk away. His skin itched, his guts churned, his head pounded and his eyes burned. But the only sight he had to ease him was Blair's face, closed to him now - just as he deserved. 

Dropping his hands, he turned for the door - but paused, not looking at Blair, not wanting to see. "Chief ... I didn't know ... that this would be so... that you ... I wish I could ..." 

"Just get out." 

He hadn't known - but he should have considered the possibility. 

Without another word, he turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him. 

* * *

Blair sat on the floor by his bedroom window, gazing out into the darkness. In his hands he held a mug of cocoa, cooling as a wisp of steam rose before his eyes. 

He'd tried to get back to sleep but from experience he knew that with so many things rattling around inside his head, he didn't have a hope. So he gave up and instead, showered, dressed, made a drink then found himself sitting here, not quite able to get up and move. 

In an hour it would be sunrise and his day would begin. A visit to the library to take back some books, coffee with Elise then class at eleven \- he'd better remember to take last week's essays back. Then some phone calls to a few of his informants in the hope of word of a full sentinel then back to the library for some late study. If he had time, there was a Greenpeace meeting at the city hall he really should go to. 

A full day. 

He sipped his cocoa, savoring the sweet flavour. 

The sweet flavour. 

He'd acted like a child. So Jim was married. So? It wasn't like they'd gone to bed with whispered promises of a bright future or anything. Christ, they'd not even had a proper conversation before they'd gotten naked. 

It was just sex, that's all. Never meant to be anything else. 

Oh, hell, it was just because Jim was his first guy, right? 

Right? 

Yeah, that was exactly it. He knew much better than to fall for someone over a tumble in bed. And sure, if things had gone on then maybe, you know, maybe the wonder would have died off a little and the big goodbye would have been welcome. Hell, with _his_ track record with relationships, he'd have probably been the one to kick Jim out so- 

So okay, so maybe this was all for the best. He'd had a great lover for his first times with a guy and for that, he should count his fortune. And the rest? Well, the rest was nothing but foolishness and it would wear off, right? 

Right? 

He got to his feet, took his cup into the kitchen and poured the rest down the drain. He had work to do, a sentinel to find and if he felt like shit for the rest of the week, well, he only had himself to blame. 

Part Two 

Is it thy will thy image should keep open,  
My eyelids to the weary night?  
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken  
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? 

Sonnet 61  
Shakespeare 

Joel grunted as he held the box steady between his hands. Jim held up his end but he would rather have done it alone than risk Joel dropping it. The lift seemed to be taking an eternity to get to the seventh floor so all he could do was hold on, give the older man an encouraging smile and hope it would be enough. 

With a final whine, the lift came to a halt, the doors opening slowly. Jim stepped sideways and backed out first, the heavy box held before him as Joel followed. From there it was a simple case of dodging people as they walked along the corridor until, gratefully, Jim could lay the box down beside the other man's desk. 

"Thanks for that, Jim," Joel smiled, nodded and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Roberts swore the trolley was downstairs but I couldn't find it anywhere." 

"No problem, Joel. Can you manage from here?" 

"Sure, sure. Now I just have to go through all this stuff. Thanks again." 

Jim nodded and wheeled away to his own desk. He'd been caught on his way back from lunch and although he'd been biting heads off all week, he'd never been able to find it in himself to be so sour with Joel. On the street, the older cop could be as tough as necessary - but with those he called friends, Joel had a very soft underbelly too easy to wound with a careless word. 

Suppressing a sigh, Jim slid back behind his desk and began sorting through the files he'd managed collect over the last week. More than a few of them could be sent back downstairs - and usually he did that the moment he was finished - but this week, well this week hadn't exactly been one of his best. 

Nor had the last, or the one before that. 

It was a slow slide, that's what he'd always been told. Slow but inevitable. How many days did he have left before something happened where others could see it? So far only Carolyn had any inkling that something was wrong and her reaction had been . . . well, predictable to say the least. 

Thank god Blair hadn't ever seen it. 

Shit! 

No, not again. Don't go there again. Just don't! Can't afford to think about him. 

It was over, finished, kaput. Even if he was in a position to do something about it, Blair wouldn't even consider having an affair with a married man . . . 

Married. Yeah, right. Like Joel was married. 

Not. 

Jim's gaze rose, almost involuntarily as a familiar scent caught him. Beyond the glass wall of the bull pen he could see her, tall and proud, stubborn. His wife. 

Hard to remember now that there'd once been a time when he'd said that with pride. Hard to remember a time when it had been the truth, where marriage hadn't been something for convenience, when things hadn't been kept going on the outside for the sake of image while the inside was hollow and empty. 

His skin crawled with the lie, the pretence, the blatant chicanery the two of them displayed on a daily basis. She had drawn him down to her level and he remained there, entrapped, a fly in her spider's web. 

Married, right. Like Cain and Abel. 

"Ellison?" Simon's voice cut through his fog. "My office." 

Jim climbed to his feet and sauntered into the captain's office, closing the door behind him. Simon waved him to a seat and he sank down, unable to gather any enthusiasm for whatever Simon could say. 

"How's it going?" The taller man grunted, his gaze on various bits of paperwork in front of him. 

"Bellini's almost wrapped up. Just waiting on some files from the DA. Haven't got the autopsy report back on Deakin but it should be through some time this afternoon." 

"Fine," Simon nodded, then looked up, a fresh cigar between his fingers. He leaned back in his seat and chewed on the tobacco. "But what I meant was, how are things with you?" 

"Me?" Something inside Jim cringed a little, hoping this was a wild stab in the dark. 

"Yeah, you. Look, Jim, I don't want you to take this the wrong way but . . . are things okay between you and Carolyn?" 

Jim couldn't help it, his jaw clenched on reflex. "What do you mean?" 

"Well," Simon said slowly, "for a long time there, I thought things were looking pretty grim and then a few weeks ago, you looked okay, you know? Pretty happy, like it was all getting better - but since then, you've been like a bear with a thorn. Not to put too fine a point on it, Jim, but I want to know what the hell is going on with you." Simon gave one of his grim, 'answer me or else' smiles, sat back and waited. 

Jim pulled in a breath and turned to look out of the window. Okay, so it wasn't some question about his other strange behavior. Fine, so things weren't that bad yet. Still . . . he didn't really want to be . . . 

"Everything's fine, Captain." Hell, the words didn't even sound convincing to his own ears. 

"Sure. All the same, Jim. Is it Carolyn?" 

"Why would it be?" 

"Well, I thought perhaps the fact that she's put in a formal request to have another forensics officer assigned to the cases you're working might be something of an indication of trouble?" 

"What?" Jim frowned, turning back. "When was this?" 

"Yesterday. Landed on my desk this morning. She didn't say anything to you?" 

Jim just closed his eyes and shook his head. He was tired. So tired of all this. So tired of everything escaping him no matter how hard he tried, how hard he held onto it, how hard he chased it down the hill. 

"You know the department offers counseling . . ." 

"Yeah, fine, Simon, counseling, great. Like that's going to make a difference." Jim sat up, shaking his head, "Look, the truth is, perhaps this is a good idea, you know? Might make things a bit . . ." 

"Better?" 

"Easier. I mean . . ." Jim would have gone on. He really would have . . . but it was happening again. Noises he shouldn't hear. Things that just weren't real. Voices from far away, two babies crying, mothers soothing them, car doors slamming, laughter, paper rustling . . . 

So fucking loud it hurt. 

Jesus . . . 

It's not real. It's not real. It can't be real. There are no babies here. No mothers. Seven flights up I can't hear a car door close. It's not real. Can't be real. 

Jesus . . . 

"Jim!" 

He blinked, stared up at Simon's face which was suddenly looming above him. "Yeah?" His tone came out belligerent, like he had done nothing wrong, but fuck fuck fuck, he _was_ going crazy, down down down into the well never to come back up and what was that he could hear now? That thumping noise . . . good god, it was Simon's heartbeat . . . 

Gotta get out of here. 

Jim sprang to his feet and would have left except that Simon reached out and grabbed his arm. 

"What the hell is going on with you?" 

"Nothing, Simon, I'm sorry. Just lost track for a minute there. Trying to work out why Carolyn . . ." Jim formed the fake words like a conjurer performs one trick after the other. Lies he was too used to speaking, hiding, doing anything to avoid people knowing the truth, from seeing how weak he'd become. "I'll go chase up that forensics report and er . . . thanks for telling me about Carolyn. I'll talk to her tonight." 

Lie, lie lie, Jim. You don't talk to Carolyn any more. She doesn't talk to you. You communicate through notes and phone messages. This isn't a marriage, it's a joke. 

Simon let his arm go, his frown only shifting a little. "You sure you're okay?" 

He was - _now_. "Yeah, honest, Captain. Can I go back to work now?" 

With a wave of his hand, Simon turned back to his desk. "Just go see the counselor, okay?" 

"I'll think about it." 

Think about it, right. One more lie on top of the others. Fine. 

Back at his desk, he sat and stuck his elbows on the surface, hiding his face for a moment while he got the remainder of his fear under control. 

Too often now. It was happening too often and each time it happened it got worse, took longer to go away. Seven times today. Seven occasions when his senses had decided to play tricks on him, making him think he could see, taste and hear things that couldn't be there. 

Doctors had told him there was nothing wrong with him physically. So if it wasn't physical, it had to be . . . 

"Jim? Would you like some coffee?" 

"No, I don't want any damned coffee!" Jim bellowed - and only then looked up to see the stricken look on Joel's face. 

"Okay, Jim." Joel backed away, his eyes wide and in a second he was gone, way too quickly for Jim to form an apology let alone speak it. 

Jim glanced around at the rest of the bull pen - to find faces quickly averted. Fine. Great. Now he was putting on an exhibition for the rest of them as well. 

Fucking fantastic. 

With that thought in mind, Jim pushed away from his desk and stalked out, heading for the lab and his autopsy report. 

* * *

The light was on in the spare bedroom by the time he got home. He barely glanced through the curtained doorway as he made his way into the kitchen, dumping a bag of take-out on the bench. There were dirty dishes in the sink as usual, but at least this time Carolyn had wiped the bench down and put away her leftovers. It had been a long time since they'd bothered sharing meals and back then, she'd always been quick to clean up afterwards. Now it sometimes seemed she left the mess deliberately because it would annoy him. 

He didn't get annoyed. He just waited until she wasn't around and dealt with it. It simply wasn't worth the trouble saying anything - and he'd discovered that leaving the mess where it was bothered him more than cleaning it up did. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to live in an atmosphere where they were constantly sniping at each other. There had to be things he did that bothered her - and she didn't snipe either. They'd both made compromises to make this pretend life together bearable. 

"You're late," Carolyn breezed out of the bedroom and headed towards the bathroom, fixing a bracelet around her wrist. "Anything big happening?" 

"No, not really," Jim replied, pulling out a plate for his take-out Chinese. "I heard you weren't feeling well. You came hone early." 

"Oh, it was just a headache that wouldn't shift, you know. It went away after I lay down for an hour." 

"You going out?" 

Carolyn returned and stepped into what had become her bedroom to collect her jacket. "Drinks with some friends from college." 

"Didn't know you still kept in touch with your college buddies." 

"Well," once more she came back, standing before the island while putting her jacket on. "Haven't kept in touch exactly, but every now and then we get together, catch up, that kind of thing." 

It was the first he'd heard of it - but maybe she'd just started doing this over the last year. How would he know? This was as close as they got to having a conversation. 

"By the way," Carolyn picked up her purse from the table. "Those papers from the bank arrived today. I've left them here for you to sign. I put the amount in already but you can check it from the latest statement if you want to. Half to me, half to you, as we agreed." 

"Right," Jim spooned fried rice onto a plate, trying to keep the abrupt irritation out of his voice. "Not even divorced and already we have the property settled. Very efficient." 

"Oh, come on, Jim, we agreed about this. Why shouldn't I have my own accounts?" 

"You say that like they were _my_ accounts rather than _ours_." 

"But . . ." 

Jim held up a hand, "Look, I'm not arguing, okay? It makes sense that we keep our finances separate. I'll sign the papers." They'd never had a problem with money. Never. Not a single raised eyebrow. But just lately, Carolyn had been all fired about keeping separate accounts, keeping their salaries separate, contributing equally to all bills. 

The irony seemed to have escaped her entirely. 

He piled the rest of his meal on his plate, grabbed a fork and pulled up a chair at the end of the table. Carolyn didn't leave immediately however. Instead, she slipped the strap over her shoulder, folding her arms as though for protection. 

"Jim, I thought I should remind you about . . ." 

"What?" Couldn't she just go out? So he could relax at last? 

"Next Tuesday. My father's birthday. We're going out for dinner, remember?" 

"Oh, Jesus," Jim breathed, put his fork down and sat back. "No. Look, I'm sorry. Tell them I'm working or something, okay? Just . . . no." 

"But Jim, if you don't go, they'll . . ." 

"They'll what? I'm a cop - they know I have to work sometimes." Jim kept his voice even and level. He was in no mood for an argument. 

"And the last time you used that excuse Daddy found out. Please, Jim, it's only for a few hours. I thought you liked him." 

"I do - but that's not the point and you know it." 

"Oh, come on, Jim!" Carolyn's whined. "Is it so much to ask? All you have to do is sit there and be fed and . . ." 

"Pretend we're still happily married and fend off questions from your mother and sisters about when we're going to start a family when you and I both know our marriage ended a year ago." Jim shoved his chair back and stood, his appetite suddenly gone. "Please, Carolyn, can't you just tell them the truth? Let us both out of this . . ." 

"What?" Carolyn was staring up at him, eyes hard and uncompromising. "What? This . . . nightmare?" 

Instantly, he held his hands up, moving towards her, soothing her anger. "I didn't say that." 

"No, but that's what you were thinking." Carolyn drew herself up. "We agreed we'd stay together. We agreed we wouldn't have affairs and that we'd stay married. We agreed . . ." 

"You insisted and _I_ agreed, Carolyn. Not the same thing at all. And I only agreed because I didn't want to push you into something you weren't ready for. I wanted to give you time." He came to a halt before her, putting his hands on her shoulders, "This isn't a nightmare, Caro, but it's not the best kind of life, is it? Neither of us are happy. We're incompatible - that's what you said a year ago when you decided to sleep downstairs. And I agreed with you. We were finished and I wanted and end to it as well. But now we're stuck in his no-man's land." 

"And what, you want to go back on that now?" It was more than obvious to him that she had no desire to listen to reason. 

Jim shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, urging patience into him from somewhere. "I just want to know - are we going to do this forever? Are you ever going to tell your family that we've broken up?" 

"Are you?" 

His eyes snapped open and he turned to look at her shrewd expression. Hard now with anger she would never see, he nodded, "I'd tell my father in an instant - if I could be bothered speaking to him at all. But you and I both know we keep up this charade because you're too afraid of what _your_ father will say, how your family will react, how your friends will think you're a failure. Never been a divorce in the Plummer dynasty \- and you don't want to be the first. It doesn't seem to bother you that our marriage _has_ ended." 

Parts of her face were twitching with barely suppressed fury. "You agreed." 

"And I'm not going back on it now - but I just want to know we're not going to be doing this forever. God, we don't share anything any more. Not even bank accounts. I have my life, you have yours. . ." 

"Mummy and Daddy have slept in separate beds for thirty years - and they're still together." 

Jim frowned, but he did his best to hide the worst of his horror. "And that's the kind of marriage you want?" 

At that, Carolyn lifted her chin, her gaze unflinching. "You promised." 

The sheer stubbornness in that gaze drilled right into him then. "And what if you meet someone?" 

She half-laughed, shook her head and shot back, "So, it's the sex is it? Your balls are turning blue and you want someone to warm your bed at night. Typical man! Well, if you want it that badly, go buy yourself some relief. I'm going out." 

With that, she turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind her. The loft was abruptly vacant of the acrid scent of deceit and Jim slumped a little, his hands reaching to the chair back for support. 

There was no talking to her. No words of reason he could think of to get through to her that he wanted out. He couldn't even go and start divorce proceedings on his own without her consent - or he'd be breaking the promise he made that they'd stay together. 

Which would make two promises broken. He'd already betrayed her once, and in the process, he'd hurt Blair. 

Sweet, beautiful Blair. In the three weeks since he'd last seen the man, Jim had thought about him every single day. 

And night. 

Why in god's name had he made that promise to Carolyn? 

Because, in reality, he had still cared for her, hadn't wanted it to be too hard on her. Because even an amicable divorce could be tough. 

But even back then, a year ago, these terrible, strange things with his senses had started happening and he had known, even then, that he couldn't bring himself to inflict his oncoming madness on anybody - especially somebody he loved. He'd wanted to spare her that - but she'd made him promise to stay. 

So he'd said yes and chained himself in this prison, lost himself in this void to the point where he was no longer certain of anything. 

Carolyn would never let him go. Her pride insisted they _did_ have enough of a marriage left - at least enough for the outside world to recognize \- and that was all that mattered to her. As long as the rest of the world thought she was married, she was content to forget that it was a lie. 

With a sigh, Jim picked up his plate and emptied it into the trash. He washed the dishes, leaving the kitchen as he always did, spotless and shiny. Then he headed up to bed, too tired now to do more than stretch out and let his thoughts fill with his favourite escape. 

Blair. Beautiful Blair who had wanted him, who had made him feel valuable and important and sexy. Blair who had wanted to go on seeing him. 

Jim stripped off and slipped under the sheets, pulling the blankets up to keep warm. He closed his eyes and concentrated, conjuring up the scent of Blair, the feel of his body, the texture of his skin, the soft sounds of his love-making. 

He'd not taken Blair. He'd wanted to - god, how he'd wanted to - and he'd sensed Blair had wanted him to as well - but he'd not done it. Some small sense of pride, some final shred of decency had prevented him. Let that treasure fall to some man who meant something to Blair, who would not then turn around and dump him, somebody who deserved that gift. 

But now, naked, in his bed, he was joined by his dream-Blair. The long curls, the blue eyes velvety with arousal. In his mind, Jim made love to this man, held him and cherished him and took him, joining them in an act so akin to love as would make no difference. 

And when the fantasy reached its fulfillment, so did he, spending himself on his hand, on his sheets, everywhere but where it mattered. His seed scattered, he curled up, his body expressing the despair he could not afford to show anyone else. 

Then, and only then, would his mind allow him some rest. 

* * *

He woke, flushed with sweat, his heart pounding, hearing every single thud, every whistle of his own lungs, every rush of blood through his body. He tried to move but the noise of his limbs shifting was deafening, too deafening and in response, he curled up, his hands shoved over his ears. 

It hurt. God how it hurt. 

Don't want this. Don't want to go crazy. Don't want to live the rest of my life in an asylum. Want my life back. 

Please. 

The pain in his head filled him, sinking him, dragging him down to the bottom where he could hardly breathe. 

No. 

Please. No. 

* * *

Blair paced across the front of the classroom, trying not to look at the clock on the wall, trying to keep still, trying to concentrate on why he was here, what he was supposed to be achieving. His students, probably unaware of his agitation, had their heads down, busily scribbling answers to a test he'd set them, probably thinking how useless the information was, how little work they needed to do in order to get a pass mark and move onto something more interesting, probably counting the minutes until he called out 'time' and they could get the hell out of here. 

Hadn't he once loved teaching? 

Like he'd once loved learning? 

But the people in this room had become faceless to him, their personal stories seemingly designed to pull at his sympathy, to manipulate him into going easy on them and god, when the fuck had he become so damned cynical? 

His feet took him to a window and there he determined to stop, his gaze drifting out towards the green, the people wandering by, the man mowing the lawns. What would it be like to work out there, in the real world rather than in this ivory tower, all pristine and connected to nothing. 

Where did reality cross the line of academia? Or was there no intersection? Did anything that happened in here have any relevancy to that out there? 

How was he to find out if he stayed here? 

With a sigh, he turned back to his students, his eyes automatically going back to the clock. Taking in a relieved breath, he raised his voice, "Time. Pens down thank you, ladies and gentlemen." 

* * *

Jim stumbled into the kitchen, squinting against the light so bright from above. He had no idea what time it was and frankly, no longer cared. 

Every fucking night. 

Without fail. 

Something. 

Jesus. It couldn't be long now. 

His eyes stung, the flesh burning no matter what he did. Pupils open so wide even darkness seemed too bright. By feel alone, he reached under the sink and took out the medicine box. He fumbled as he sought out the eyedrops he was sure were here. But he had to be careful, couldn't mix them up, couldn't . . . Jesus. . . 

"Jim?" Carolyn's voice cut across his attempts to be quiet. "What are you doing making all this noise? Do you have any idea what time it is?" 

Jim ignored her. His hands identified two bottles that could be right \- but he needed to see the labels and it just hurt so damned much. Turning for the best light, he held both up, opening his eyes enough to see. 

"Jim! Answer me! What are you doing?" 

Yes, this one. Blue label. Eyedrops. Good. 

He unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back and squeezed into both eyes. For a moment, the cool liquid eased the pain and he let out a sigh of relief. Within seconds however, the affect had worn off and he was once again in pain. 

Well, why not? It was all imaginary, right? Perhaps he should imagine a drug to make it all go away. 

"I don't understand why you don't go to a doctor or something. If you've got allergies they can do something about that . . ." 

"It's not an allergy," Jim managed, feeling his way around the island, aiming for the couch. He didn't think he'd make the stairs safely. 

"Then what is it?" 

"I don't know. Look, Carolyn, just go back to bed, okay?" 

"But you have to _do_ something about it." Carolyn followed him, despite her words, no note of genuine concern entered her voice. Rather, she sounded like he was doing this deliberately to inconvenience her. "Look, I'll call my doctor in the morning. . ." 

"No." Jim reached the couch and sank down. He tilted his head back and kept his eyes closed. "I've been to a doctor and they couldn't find anything wrong. I told you that months ago." 

"Then why is this still happening? If there's nothing wrong, you shouldn't be in pain." 

Jim bit back a groan of frustration. _Shouldn't_ be in pain? Oh, right, fine. Well, in that case, I can't be, can I? 

"Jim, just go see my doctor, okay," this came out more as an order than a request. 

"I said no," Jim snapped back. "Hell, Carolyn, just go back to bed and leave me alone!" 

"Oh, I see. This is all some kind of sympathy thing, isn't it? To make me feel sorry for you? So I'll give you a divorce, is that it? God, Jim, sometimes you can be such a child!" 

He could afford to ignore her words because after that, she turned and went back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 

He let out a sigh and breathed deeply again. Slowly, slowly the pain began to subside. 

At least, the pain in his eyes did. 

* * *

Blair sneezed as he drew another file box from the shelf, almost dropping it. He staggered towards the table, dumped it, then sneezed twice more for good measure. Once he'd recovered from the dust, he turned back to the shelf to survey what had been hidden behind the box. A large stack of grey papers tied together with string awaited him and with something of a smile, he reached in and pulled them out, shoving them onto the table beside the box. 

How long had he been at Rainier? So why was it he'd only heard about this stash just now? Records taken some twenty years ago by the biology department. Data concerning heightened senses in humans and animals. God, this could be a goldmine! 

Brushing the dust off with his hands, he poked through the string ties and took a quick peak at the files on top. The name on the first one however, made him come to a halt. 

James. D.S. James. 

James. Jim. 

Jim. 

Clenching his fist, he grabbed the box and without ceremony, shoved it back on the shelf where he'd found it. Then he took the pile of files and headed back up to his office. 

Not going to think about him. Won't. Don't want to know. 

Want him, yes. But don't want to know what . . . 

The walk along the corridor was long with this weight in his arms. He kicked his door open and with deliberate care, placed the files on his desk. On then did he reach for scissors to cut the string binding them together. Again deliberately, he took the top file and shoved it under the bottom, where he wouldn't have to look at it. 

Why did he still feel this way? It had been, what, nearly a month since Jim had . . . dumped him? No, couldn't be dumped 'cause that would imply there'd been some kind of relationship formed and really, all they'd done was fuck. 

Yeah, that's right. Just sex. Casual, unattached sex, where were was no connection between them, nothing important but the sharing of bodies. 

With balled up fists, Blair punched the top of the pile and watched as it slowly slid sideways until the files covered his desk. He sighed, the anger draining out of him again. He sank into his chair. 

He'd had his share of one nighters, like most people. He'd even been on the receiving end of the dump line more than once but it had never affected him like this. This, this was getting annoying. All he needed to do was see a man with blue eyes and his head would poke up through the clouds for a bit of casual wool-gathering. Like now, seeing the name James on a file twenty years old and suddenly, his nice mood of discovery had turned into fury at the fates. 

Fuck this. He couldn't be feeling this. He _shouldn't_ be feeling this. Hell, he didn't even _know_ the man! How could he . . . how could he feel . . . From two nights of sex? 

"Blair?" 

He looked up to find a familiar wrinkled face peering around his door. He instantly sat up straight, got to his feet. "Oh, hi, Professor, come in." 

Peters pushed the door wide and came up to the desk, momentarily surveying the tangled mess of files Blair had rescued from the basement. "How is it going?" 

"Oh, you know research," Blair grinned lamely. Truth was, he felt a little lame right now. 

"And how is your quest to find a full sentinel going? Any luck yet?" 

Blair had to do his best to stop himself biting his tongue. "No, not as yet." 

"But you're still hopeful." 

"That's right." 

"I see." Peters glanced around the room for a moment, then turned back to Blair. "You might be aware of the fact that National Geographic does an annual section on work done in various universities throughout the country. At Rainier, we have had such an excellent reputation in our field, we've managed to place an article in that section every year for the past sixteen. This year, I'd like you to write the article for submission." 

Blair's eyes widened, "Me?" 

Peters smiled a little, "I'm glad you appreciate the honour you've been given." 

"Sure I do, Professor! Thanks for the opportunity." Blair grinned. "Wow. Um, when's the submission date?" 

"You have three weeks. I'm willing to give you some leeway with your teaching schedule so you can have enough time to do us proud. None of us would like to see this year as the one where Rainier wasn't good enough to get into NG." 

"No, no, of course not." Blair's thoughts were already flying with this. "Um, any particular topic they're interested in?" 

Peters nodded vaguely, "A few things have been mentioned here and there." 

"Uh, I'm sorry, Professor, but none of my sentinel stuff is ready for . . ." 

"No, I want you to steer clear of that." Peters turned back to face him, folding his hands together. "I'd like something clear and sharp and on the cutting edge of anthropology." 

"Cutting edge?" 

"That's right. I want something new that nobody else has done before. So new, that you have three weeks to do the research in." 

"Three weeks?" Blair's voice went up a notch. "But . . . but . . ." 

"Oh, I don't expect you to begin a whole new field of expertise - but you've done some serious work on closed societies, haven't you? How about you get yourself ensconced in some closed society for the next two weeks and then put that together." 

"But . . . Professor, I'd be writing an article about data I wouldn't have had time to fully analyze. How could I make any serious observations in that space of time. I mean I . . ." 

"Keep the field narrow, Blair and you'll have all the time you need." 

Blair sank down on to his chair. Narrow. Right. 

"You can do this, Blair," Peters stood a little closer, his voice full of confidence. "If I didn't think you could, I wouldn't have asked you. You're one of the brightest students we have here - and as such, the toughest challenges land at your feet. Your ability to rise to the occasion is a testimony to your brilliance." 

Looking up, Blair could only nod, "Yes, Professor. But three weeks . . . to find a research subject, formulate my questions . . . I _want_ to do a good job on this and I'm afraid . . ." 

"Well, you would have had more time but the Geographic changed their dates without warning - and I'm afraid we have to live with them. Look, I know somebody in the Cascade Police Department. I could get you in there this afternoon. That would give you all morning to formulate your questions - and let's face it, an article on a metropolitan police department would stand out quite clearly against the indigenous backdrop the other universities are likely to submit." 

Police. Jim. 

Oh this day just got better and better. 

"I'll go and call my friend. I'll let you know where to go and who to see." 

"Yeah, fine, thanks," Blair said to empty air as he realized Peters had already gone. He stared vacantly at the door for a moment then shook his head. Nah, the chances of him running into Jim were so slim as to be ridiculous - and even if he did, what did it matter, right? They'd had their moment and now it was over. Things back to normal. 

Besides, he had work to do, an article to research and write in three short weeks. No time left over for speculation or . . . or . . . 

Resolutely, he got to his feet, pulled the files back together and found some new string to tie them up with. If nothing else, it would certainly be interesting hanging around the Cascade Police Department for the next three weeks. 

* * *

Jim stared down at the collection of pastries laid out on the trolley and found none of them even remotely interesting. Instead, he just ordered a cup of coffee and took it back to his desk. He placed it down where he could reach it and once more, tried to distract himself from the myriad smells which assaulted him. 

It wouldn't bother him if they weren't all so damned strong. And some of them were impossible. Yes, he could just stretch his imagination to consider that some one, somewhere inside this building was baking fresh bread, but he couldn't believe for one second that anyone in their right mind would be shoveling horseshit. Not with a spade. 

So why was he imagining all this? What horrible disease had he picked up that would make him think he was smelling things and hearing things and god, the things he could see some days it was just . . . 

Hell, he'd been so successful shutting down so many other things he felt, why did this have to happen as well? 

He sighed, moved to pick up his coffee - but suddenly, that smelt too . . . too metallic all of a sudden. He tried to take a mouthful but the odour was too strong. With another sigh, he stood and took the cup into the breakroom, pouring the black mess down the drain. 

It was getting to the point where he could hardly eat or drink now. The last four weeks had been a nightmare. Things he couldn't eat one day, were fine the next. He'd lost track of the last time he'd had a full night's sleep and . . . 

No. Actually, he could remember exactly the last time he'd had a full night's sleep. 

It was just getting to be too much. If it didn't stop soon, he'd have to take a leave of absence or something, maybe just get away, maybe just . . . 

"Jim?" 

He turned to find Rafe coming into the break room. "What?" 

"The Captain's looking for you. Um, I think you might be getting Joel's caseload." 

"Why? Where is he?" 

"Off sick. Suspected ulcer. Could be a few weeks." 

"Oh, hell!" 

"We've got a card everyone's signing if you're interested. In the meantime, you know he was working on that Fed case, don't you?" 

"Yeah, yeah, the one with all the files to go through. I know, I helped bring them up here." Jim cursed once more then headed for Simon's office. Just what he needed. Something _really_ fascinating to take his mind off his senses and . . . and Blair and . . . 

That was it, really. His senses and Blair - for when thoughts of one made him too restless, thoughts of the other would creep into him, stealing his breath away with regret and some faint memory of a happiness he'd thought was only a myth. But then the other memory would slip in behind them, presenting him with a picture of Blair that last night, the anger, the confusion, the hurt. 

In so little time, the man had left an indelible mark on him that he doubted anybody else would ever remove. Not that he could afford to try, mind. Not while his brain was busily going down the tubes. 

Some days he just wished it would and get it over with. 

Just outside Simon's door, he paused, drew in a breath and got his thoughts in order. 

He opened the door. 

"Ah, Jim, come in." Simon stood and waved a hand at the man sitting before his desk. "I'd like you to meet . . ." 

Blair. Blair Sandburg. Student at Rainier. Studying anthropology. Writing an article for National Geographic on closed societies. Doing the university a big favour having him here. The PD will be mentioned in the article. Only for a few weeks. Decided to put him with the best. He can tag along with you, Jim. Shouldn't be any trouble. Just here to observe, ask a few questions. No trouble at all. 

No trouble. 

_Dear God!_

Jim absorbed all this information through his skin. His eyes didn't once look away from the picture that stood before him. Soft curls pulled back neatly, the way he'd first seen them. Gentle mouth open slightly in surprise. Devastating blue eyes wide, regarding him with wariness, a little fear (oh, he remembered that fear so well . . . their first night . . .). Square shoulders wrapped in faded checks, legs draped in equally faded denim, sturdy boots. Curves and shapes he remembered so well, had touched and caressed. 

Oh god. 

Glasses. Blair was wearing glasses which made him look, god, made him look like a kid, like some innocent and Jim had made love to this man, had held him and wanted him and god, he still did, he did want him and . . . shit . . . 

"Blair, this is Detective Jim Ellison. One of Major Crimes' best. Mostly, he works alone so you won't be in anyone's way. I'll get all the paperwork through by the end of the day. Make sure you don't leave without your observer's pass or they won't let you in tomorrow." 

Like an automation, Jim stuck his hand out for Blair to shake it, like they'd just met, like they didn't know anything about each other. 

Well, maybe they didn't. 

The touch of flesh was brief but telling. Blair's palm was hot, damp, the hand trembling a little - but on his face, nothing much was revealed but that suggestion of fear. The surprise was long gone. Simon wouldn't have noticed anything at all. 

"Jim, you know Joel's off for the next week at least?" 

"Yeah, Rafe told me." Act like everything's normal, Jim. Just pretend. You're good at that now. 

Good at hiding the pit of heat rolling around in the middle of his stomach, the trembling inside him, deep, where he existed. He shouldn't be reacting like this. He should be angry or something. Concerned that this whole thing was a setup. But nothing like that rose in him. Nothing like that at all. Instead, he just felt something strongly akin to . . . relief. 

"Don't worry, I'm splitting his caseload up. You however, get the Macklin case." 

All those files. 

Yay. 

Jim couldn't even muster a sigh let alone a complaint. "Okay." 

Simon raised his eyebrows at this, but obviously didn't want to say anything in front of the . . . observer. "Sorry, Jim, but you need to go through every one of those files and make sure we have everything we need to give the Feds on Macklin. I'm sure Blair won't mind giving you a hand." 

"Me?" Blair looked up from where his gaze had been studying the floor. 

"Sure, why not? It'll give you a good idea of exactly what we do here." 

"Uh, okay." Blair's voice had a soft, husky tone to it, as though his own surprise was way too close to the surface for him to risk more animation. 

"Thanks, Captain," Jim had to get out of here, had to make an exit as fast as possible - but there was no escape as Blair was following him. He got as far as his desk before he turned around, saw those eyes on him, that mouth open to speak. Before it could, he held up his hand. "Just wait a minute, okay?" 

Jim glanced around, wondering where it would be safe for them to talk \- then remembered that Joel had set out all his files in the second meeting room, on the big table. Crooking a finger at Blair, he turned and headed straight for it. 

It was empty. Jim ushered Blair in, closing the door behind him. Deliberately, he made straight for the table, hoping Blair might just decide that nothing really needed to be said between them - but when Blair _did_ remain silent, Jim was forced to look up. 

He caught Blair studying him, his head tilted to one side, the backpack that had been on his shoulder, now sliding to the floor. Blue-grey eyes instantly darted away as that beautiful face flushed a little, heightening the cheekbones. 

In his turn, Jim felt his own colour rising. "Look, I . . . um. . ." 

The younger man almost flinched, then pursed his lips, shook his head a little and let his gaze drop to the chair in front of him. One hand idly toyed with the wooden back before he spoke, his voice quiet and gently hesitant. "You, er . . . don't need to worry, man. I mean, I'm not here to make trouble for you or anything." 

"I didn't think you were," was all Jim could say. 

"I promise you, this wasn't my idea," Blair continued, his gaze still down as though he expected Jim to suddenly start shouting or something. "It was sprung on me this morning. I have this deadline and . . . for this article you know, and Professor Peters . . . well he knew somebody and the next thing I knew, man, I was on my way here and I . . . I had no idea that you'd . . . I mean . . ." Blair paused here, and Jim had to clench his fists against taking the man in his arms and quelling his doubts. Then Blair seemed to gather himself, his gaze rising to meet Jim's, his shoulders squaring a little. "I . . . Your Captain seems like an okay guy." 

"Yeah, he is." 

Blair paused again, biting his lip, "How are you?" 

Jim pulled in a breath and swallowed hard. This was hard. Fucking impossible, in fact. It was way too dangerous for him to be around this man, wanting him as he did - and yet, for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to say so - not even to hint as much. Instead, he formed a reply, letting it slip out into the silence. "I'm fine. You?" 

"You don't look fine." Blair frowned a little. "Jim, look, if you don't want to do this, it's okay, you know. I'm sure if I go and speak to the Captain I can get him to put me with somebody else. I mean, I'd still be around but we wouldn't have to talk or . . ." 

Jim held his breath a moment, to still himself, to hold on to whatever control his life had left him. Now he knew how the rope felt in a tug of war. Every muscle in his body strained to get closer to the man, every ounce of reason he had shrieked at him to keep his distance, physically and emotionally. 

"Blair, I'm sorry." 

Blair's face screwed up a little at that, "No, it's me that's sorry. I behaved like a child. It was just . . . what it was, you know and I didn't have any right to . . . You . . . you have your own life and really I . . ." 

"You didn't do anything wrong . . ." Jim came to a halt. There were so many thing he needed to say - but none of them held any weight. Even if he did mean them. "Look, if it's okay with you, I . . . I don't mind you being here. At least, I'd rather have you here than any of the others." 

"You would?" Blair's eyes smiled, leaving the rest of his face behind \- but it was the eyes that mattered right now. 

Jim almost folded then - but pulled himself up in time. He gave Blair a brisk nod, "Sure. Besides, you said you'd help, didn't you?" 

He got the full smile this time. "Sure, why not. Only I do have to interview people at some point." 

"Is tomorrow okay?" 

"Fine." 

"Okay. Let's get to it." 

* * *

It was true, Blair had been in some strange places in his life, but none so weird as this. Not that most people would see it that way - but this was just plain weird. 

Naomi would have a fit. 

But Naomi wasn't here, was she? Not only that, but Blair had never actually told her about his . . . adventure with a _male_ cop. He honestly wasn't sure what her reaction would be to a) find him sleeping with a man and b) for that man to belong to an institution she'd protested against years before. So he'd said nothing. 

But here he was, Ms Sandburg's anthropologist son, working at a long table, reading police files and leaving sticky notes on pages he thought Jim needed to look at. Only these weren't anthropology files - these were case notes going back a long time. Background for a case the FBI was building against somebody Cascade PD had helped arrest. So in reality, he was doing work he understood and in the process, getting a feel for the way things worked in a Major Crimes department. 

But boy, was it strange to be here at all. 

Not that they spent all day in the room with the files. Jim would get called out on some case or other, or have to go and interview witnesses or suspects or just talk to his informants and it was all so damned fascinating, Blair was totally hooked, almost from the first moment. 

The application of research and analysis techniques while in the field. It was amazing and so like what he did and yet, so different. 

Of course, he wasn't here to be amazed. He was here to observe - which he did constantly, making notes, asking questions, listening and watching. He hadn't started his interviews yet, deciding to get the feel of the place first before he started. 

And that was just the first full day. By the end of it, he was exhausted. 

But . . . but . . . 

Happy. 

He trudged into his apartment ready to drop straight into bed without bothering with food. Instead, he took a shower and curled up on the couch with a mug of cocoa. For a long while, he sat in the darkness, just processing, letting the thoughts and impressions of the day wash over him until the strongest impressions were left alone, like pebbles on a beach. 

But there was really only one impression that mattered. Jim. 

He'd nearly fainted when the man himself had walked into that office. For a single, desperately long second, he'd thought it was all some terrible joke - or a hideous conspiracy - but then Captain Banks had just rattled off the reasons Blair was there and all the could think about was how beautiful Jim was and how shocked he was and how tall and how wonderful it was to see him again. 

The man was married. 

End of story. 

Married, yes, but there was something in those pale blue eyes, something which begged understanding from Blair. So, okay, if they couldn't have anything more, perhaps they might just get to know each other better, perhaps even become friends. The shadows under Jim's eyes certainly made it look like he could do with a friend. That was certainly better than nothing, wasn't it? 

Even if, at times, he had to fight to keep his hands away from the man. And his thoughts. Jim was good company. Once he'd relaxed a little, once the initial surprise and shock had worn off, Jim's dry sense of humour had asserted itself. He'd answered every one of Blair's questions without once rolling his eyes or sounding like it was a chore having him there. And he just couldn't help the fact that he _liked_ Jim. If things continued like this, he would start having some serious fun. 

With a smile at himself, Blair finished off his cocoa and headed off to bed. His interviews started tomorrow and he wanted to review his questions before he went in. 

* * *

Jim knew he was doing it, even though he also knew he shouldn't - but that didn't stop him from tailoring his day around being with Blair. He still got all his work done - but he wanted to keep the young man interested, wanted to make even the boring parts of police work seem intriguing. He didn't know what he'd do if Blair became bored with the whole thing. With Blair interested and distracted, Jim could observe him without being noticed - and every glance, every smile, every question fed the need inside him in a way he'd not thought possible. 

He could live with this and this alone if he had to. Just seeing Blair every day would be enough. Just being close enough to hear that voice, the one which gentled him to the core. Just having those blue eyes light on him, soothing his roughened edges. 

It would be enough. 

It had to be. 

So he organized his day, came in early and cleared away the nasty stuff before Blair arrived. Spent no more than an hour at a time on Joel's files and took every interview and new case he could to keep things running, to keep Blair engaged, to stop him drifting off to spend time with Jim's colleagues. 

But it was the time in the meeting room, pouring over dusty files that Jim treasured the most, because there was just the two of them, sometimes sitting close. Jim could feel the warmth from the man's body, catch a whiff of shampoo, have a brush of cotton plaid trickle over his hand. An exquisite torture - but one in which he reveled. 

And Blair was all he'd hoped he would be. So alive, so vibrant. As brilliant as he'd assumed. Sharp and incisive. Such a breath of fresh air. Everyone he came in contact with left him smiling. 

Including Jim. 

In his happier moments, Jim seriously considered clapping his handcuffs on the young man, and on himself, and never letting him out of his sight. Ever. Again. 

* * *

Continued in part three.

Link to text version: http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=firsts3/moreand_b.html


	3. Chapter 3

This story has been split into four part for easier loading.

## More And Less

by Jack Reuben Darcy

Author's webpage: <http://internetdump.com/users/angiet>

Author's notes and disclaimer can be found in part one. 

* * *

More and Less - part three   
By Jack Reuben Darcy 

Keeping his notepad carefully shielded from straying eyes, Blair leaned back in his chair and toyed with his pencil. Opposite him sat his latest interviewee - Detective Rafe. Well dressed, well spoken, he didn't seem the archetypal police detective - but then again, neither did Jim. 

Blair waited until Rafe returned to his seat with a fresh cup of coffee and proceeded to his last bracket of questions. He didn't have all the time in the world to do this, and he still had a number of people to interview. Captain Banks had generously said he could use any interview room not being used at the time - so Blair kept his tape recorder and files with him, making use of convenient gaps in his subjects' days to gather his data. 

"Okay, Detective," Blair glanced down at his notepad, putting his thoughts in order. These were always the hardest set of questions because they were the ones closest to his own heart - but they needed to be asked and would, he believed, add a sharp angle to his article for National Geographic. "Next question." 

"Okay," Rafe nodded, tried not to look at the notepad and put a mild expression on his face. 

"Do you believe your private life is in any way influenced by your being a police officer?" 

"Influenced? As in time and stuff?" 

"As in any way." 

"Well, yeah, it has to be. The hours we work, getting called in on holidays and days off. Anybody you go out with - and family - needs to be pretty flexible." 

"Have any of your relationships ended because of your work here?" 

"A couple of girls have been reluctant to put up with the hours, yeah." Rafe didn't look at all uncomfortable with the questions, so Blair nodded and continued. 

"If you were involved in a same sex relationship, would you feel comfortable coming out at work?" 

"Same sex?" Rafe raised his eyebrows. "You mean if I was . . . dating a guy, would I tell anyone?" 

"Yes," Blair couldn't help smiling a little - and Rafe grinned in return. 

"Hell, no!" Rafe chuckled slightly. "Man, it's tough enough when you introduce a new girlfriend - I'd hate to put up with the fuss me bringing a guy to the Christmas party would cause." 

"So you would never come out to your fellow officers?" 

"If I was gay?" Rafe sobered a little, stared at the desk in contemplation \- then shook his head. "I might come out to my partner if I thought he'd understand but basically, no. Either that or I'd change jobs." 

"Okay," Blair nodded. "Thanks for your time." 

"No problem." 

* * *

Jim saw her coming and couldn't slip into the men's room before she got to him. 

"Jim," Carolyn's voice came out small and tight, like the expression on her face, "are you still huffy with me over Daddy's dinner last week?" 

"Nope." Jim gave her something he hoped was a smile and tried to edge past her. 

"Are you sure? You've hardly said a word to me since." 

"Carolyn? Let's not get into this at work." 

She sighed at him, and shook her head, "Jim, It's a simple question, okay? It's just that I've had people say to me how much better you've been looking the last week . . ." 

"Better?" Jim frowned. 

"Yes," Carolyn smiled, her concern superficial at best. "Are you sleeping better now? Did you go see my doctor?" 

"I . . ." He gazed steadily at her and abruptly, his stomach did a violent flinch, as though he would throw up any second. Better? Because of Blair? "No, no, I didn't . . . but yeah, I am sleeping. Look, I have to go, okay? I'll see you at home." 

With that, he gently pushed past her and escaped into the men's room. He came to a halt in front of the mirror and what he saw made him wince. How could anybody not see it? It was there in his eyes. The guilt, the fear. 

And knowing that he'd been feeling better since Blair had started here didn't make the guilt go away. 

Nor the fear. 

* * *

As usual, Blair checked with everyone before he set his things up in the empty interview room. He put his tape recorder on the desk, pulled out his notepad and question list from his pack and settled into a chair. He'd found getting people to do interviews easiest first thing in the morning, usually before anything really big hit the fan. 

He glanced down his list. Six more to go. He had eight days before the deadline and already the article was really taking shape in his head. He'd thrown together a preliminary outline and organized his data in a way that actually writing it wouldn't take more than a day or so - leaving him a maximum amount of research time. 

Or a maximum amount of time here, at the PD. With Jim. 

Just observing. 

Jim seemed a little better now than he had when Blair had first turned up. He still had no idea what was hidden beneath that implacable surface, but, with things as they were, he was never likely to find out. Didn't stop him wanting to know, though. 

A short knock on the door made him look up. A tallish woman entered, something of a forced smile on her face. "Captain Banks said you wanted to interview me?" 

"Uh, sure. Thanks for coming. Take a seat." 

She closed the door and moved into the room as though there were cockroaches hidden in the corners. She moved gracefully, her tailored outfit at odds with this environment. As she pulled out a chair, she said, "Not wanting to be rude - but why me?" 

"Oh, well, I asked Captain Banks to select me some people at random, covering race, religious and gender differences. It's all for an article . . ." 

"Yes, he said that." 

"So, can I have your name?" 

"Will it appear in the article?" 

"No. It's just for my records, so I can validate the article." 

She nodded slightly at that, looked down her nose at his notepad and replied, "Lt. Carolyn Ellison." 

Blair's pencil broke. Involuntarily, his eyes darted to her left hand and there it was, a wedding band sitting alongside an expensive looking engagement ring. 

Oh, dear god, this was his . . . his wife . . . 

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He gripped the table with one hand, pushing the other into his stomach where she couldn't see it. 

Now would really not be a good time to have a panic attack. Calm down, calm down. Breathe slow and deep. 

"Are you okay?" 

Blair blinked, looked up and nodded. "Yeah, sure, just . . . a little indigestion. Um, Lt., what section do you work in?" 

"I'm head of Forensics." 

"Forensics, okay." Scrambling together his hold on his profession, Blair hit the record button and scratched her name and department on his notepad. He hauled out his sheet of questions then and started at the top. He forced himself to focus and after a while, he settled. 

After all, what did it matter that she was . . . 

Oh, fuck, who was he trying to kid? It _did_ matter. 

One by one he asked the questions. Her answers were concise, short, without much elaboration and largely uninteresting. Even less inspiring were her responses to his questions about the representation of women in the PD and whether they were treated as part of the structured group or not. 

He took no breaks, wasted no time. In a million years, he wouldn't have chosen her to interview - and he wanted to get it over as quickly as possible because he just couldn't afford to think about who she was and what it all meant. 

Finally, he came to the last questions on his list - and for a brief moment, seriously considered missing them altogether. But something about her made him stick with it and when they came out, his words were almost provocative. 

"Do you believe your private life is in any way influenced by your being a police officer?" 

"What has my private life got to do with you?" 

"Not me, Lt., it's for my article." 

"In that case, what has my private life got to do with National Geographic?" 

"I'm not asking for details - simply whether your private life has been influenced by your being a police officer." Blair paused here before continuing. "I believe you're married to Detective Jim Ellison?" 

"That's right," Carolyn nodded with a smile of such satisfaction, Blair wanted to slap her - then himself for being so catty. 

Instead, he remained true to his purpose. "So, do you think your private life has been influenced by being a police officer?" 

"We're very happy together, if that's what you want to know." 

It wasn't - but then, he wasn't sure he believed her anyway. Still, he couldn't stop himself from pushing, "So the hours you work don't have a negative influence on your relationship?" 

"I just told you we're very happy. Are there any other questions - because I do have other things to do." 

Blair almost laughed - but it would have been bitter. "Sure, just a couple more. If you were involved in a same sex relationship, would you feel comfortable coming out at work?" 

Carolyn stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "I beg your pardon?" 

"If you were involved . . ." 

"I heard that, I just can't believe a reputable publication like the National Geographic would pay somebody like you to ask that kind of question. I thought this was an academic article." 

"It is," Blair's satisfaction was only overshadowed by his empathy for Jim. "Can you answer the question?" 

"I could - but I won't, on principle. You should be ashamed of yourself, promoting such ideas in the police force. The very idea is . . . disgusting - and before you start lecturing me on homophobia, I'll have you know I have nothing against homosexuals - but to think they'd let them in the police force is just . . ." 

Blair smiled and put his pen down. "Thanks. That's all." 

She stood, stared down at him a moment, then stalked out. The moment she was gone, Blair's smile faded. 

* * *

Jim had just sat down again in front of the second last pile of files when the meeting room door opened and Blair came in. For the first time since they'd started working together, Blair wouldn't look up at him, certainly didn't smile. Concerned, Jim watched him walk to the end of the table and put his pack and things down. Noticeably subdued, he wandered down the table and pulled up a chair opposite Jim. 

"Good morning," Jim ventured, wanting to ask but being afraid to. 

Blair glanced up, for a moment, his gaze looking haunted. Then he smiled a little, "Morning, Jim. Where are we up to?" 

"Are you okay?" 

"Sure." Blair sat forward as though he could conjure enthusiasm from nowhere. 

"You don't look fine." Jim said this carefully - but seeing Blair so obviously distressed bothered him to the point where he was prepared to take a risk. "Didn't you have another interview this morning?" 

"Yeah," Blair nodded, not looking at him. "I just interviewed your wife, Jim. You didn't tell me she was a cop, too." 

Oh, shit. "Chief, I'm sorry . . ." 

"Hey, you know what?" Blair got to his feet, "I don't know why I said that because really, it's none of my business where your wife works. Look, Jim, I have some things I need to look up at the library and it's quiet there this time of day, so I think I'll go do that and come back this afternoon, if that's okay with you?" 

Blair was already shoving things into his pack before Jim could react. He stood, coming down the table, his hands wanting to reach out and hold the man here, make him stay. "I should have warned you. I had no idea you'd even see her let alone interview her. She works on the second floor and I ..." 

"I'll be back this afternoon." 

Moments later, Blair was gone, leaving the room terribly empty. 

* * *

The moment he got home, Jim wanted to haul Carolyn out and demand to know what she'd said to Blair to upset him - but he didn't. Instead, he kept his silence, holding it in like he'd always done, sitting it beside the fury that this whole mess had no resolution, no way out. 

He locked the door, headed upstairs for clean sweats then made for the shower. Even with the water pounding on his body, he could hear her moving about, doing whatever she wanted to do, enjoying a freedom she would never allow him - 

No, a freedom he had allowed her to deny him. 

He should never have made that promise, never have agreed to stay together, to go on pretending that they had a marriage. Never, never never. But it was too late now. And now, despite all his efforts, Blair had been tangled in the web of deceit and betrayal and the unfairness of it all made Jim want to punch a hole in the wall. 

After his shower, he sat on the couch, flipping tv channels in the hope of finding something that might draw his interest. When she came out, dressed and ready for another evening on the town, she tried to talk to him but he didn't bother so much as grunting in her direction. 

He couldn't afford to. He no longer trusted himself to say anything to her. He was starting to be afraid that he might lend himself to violence. 

That night, he slept badly. Very badly. 

* * *

"Okay, Detective Brown -" 

"I told you, man, everybody calls me H." 

Blair grinned and the other man grinned back at him. With some people it was just impossible to keep a professional distance. Henry Brown had proved the point. Already this interview had taken twice as long as all the others simply because, once asked a question, the man was quite happy to give plenty of examples, stories he obviously told everyone who would sit still long enough. In amongst them, Blair had found some of his most insightful data. 

"Okay, H," Blair conceded. "Just a few more questions and then we're done. Just remember, you can't discuss this with anyone until I've finished interviewing, okay?" 

"Sure, man. Shoot." 

"Do you believe your private life is in any way influenced by your being a police officer?" 

"Shit, man, sure! I mean, some girls really go for the cop thing and others, well, they treat you like you're dirt, like you're the scum rather than the bad guys we catch and put away. Not that I miss them, you know - who'd want to be around a woman who thought that way, eh? I know some guys don't tell a girl they're a cop until the third of fourth date, until they figure she might not run away." 

"Have you ever done that?" 

"Me?" Dark eyebrows rose and H shook his head. "Nah, not my style. But I have had a couple of girls tear my ass to pieces because of the hours I've had to work. Yeah, man, being a cop changes everything." 

"If you were involved in a same sex relationship, would you feel comfortable coming out at work?" 

"Same sex?" H paused, frowned and sat forward, resting his arms on the desk before him. 

"Yes," Blair replied levelly. "If you were gay." 

"But I'm not gay." H answered, equally levelly. 

"No - but if you were, would you come out to your fellow officers?" 

"But I'm not gay." 

"I understand that," Blair replied patiently. "But just assuming you were. An imaginary case. _If_ you were gay, how would you feel about it." 

"What's the point of imagining the situation if I'm not gay?" 

There was obviously no point in pressing further - and besides, Henry Brown's careful and dogged insistence was making Blair want to laugh. Instead, he just gave the man an even smile. 

"Thanks a lot, H. That's all." 

"That's it?" 

"Yep." 

"Man, that was easy." H got to his feet and turned for the door. Before he opened it however, he paused and said, "You ask those same questions to everyone?" 

"All those I'm interviewing, yes. Why?" 

H shrugged, "You can ask all you want, but I tell you man, cops aren't gay. And even if they were, they wouldn't be, you know? Not if they want to live a long time. Just . . . just you be careful asking those questions. Anybody thinks they're threatened by them, might just try to keep you quiet." 

With that, the detective waved a hand and left Blair alone in the interview room. 

A fair warning - but not one Blair was surprised about. So far over the last two weeks, he'd interviewed eighteen officers and for the most part, the response had been the same or similar. On the other hand, he was gathering data at an alarming rate - and at times, almost wished he was doing a proper study rather than a short article. There were depths to this place his fingers itched to discover. 

Yeah, well, if he didn't find a sentinel some time in the next two months, he might very well have to stick around this place and study these people. 

He packed up his things and left the interview room, heading back down to the bull pen. Jim wasn't at his desk, but the meeting room door was open and he could see the big detective at the table, reviewing yet another set of files. 

It was a tiresome job - but as Captain Banks had pointed out, not one that could be assigned to some rookie uniform. These were cases Jim and Major Crimes had investigated and if a senior person didn't do it, things - important things - might be missed, risking a whole series of convictions. 

Blair went into the meeting room and closed the door behind him. He put his things in the corner where they wouldn't get in the way and pulled up a chair beside Jim. Without saying a word, he took the next file from the pile in front of Jim and flipped it open. 

Jim didn't look up. 

Blair smiled a little, turned the first page in the file and began reading. By this point, he'd already worked out key words he needed to scan for, things his eyes had become programmed to stop and pay attention to. It was a technique he'd developed over years of being a student, researching obscure subjects via long and dusty tomes in which a single sentinel reference might be found. 

Of course, it also meant he could get through twice as many files as Jim; something which bugged the detective in a way that made Blair smile. Concentrating, he scanned down each page of the file, one after the other until he got to the end. Without pausing, he put it to the side and picked up another one. 

"Chief, are you sure there's nothing in there?" 

"Positive." They'd had this conversation a dozen times now. In the beginning, Jim hadn't believed him and instead, had insisted on checking each file after Blair had finished with it. Not once had he found something Blair had missed. 

"Did you read the summary?" 

"Twice, like you said." 

"Okay." 

"Fine." 

Jim turned another page in his current file, read to the bottom and closed it up. With a sigh, he put it down and sat back, folding his arms. Blair could feel eyes on him, a not unpleasant sensation from this man. Still, his cheeks flushed enough to make him embarrassed, and therefore flush even more. After a good ten minutes of this, when he hadn't read more than three words, he pulled in a breath. 

"Why are you staring at me?" 

A long pause - and then, "Because you're beautiful." 

Blair blinked, his gaze whipping around to meet Jim's. His heart was thudding in his chest and a host of arguments were raging through his head. "Jim . . . I . . ." 

Instantly, Jim got to his feet, stalking towards the window, his hands pushed into his pockets as though for safety. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said . . . Jesus, what the fuck am I doing . . ." 

Blair stood up, most of him wanting to go to the man, wrap him up and keep him safe - but the more sensible part forced his feet towards the other end of the room, where his backpack and papers were. "I think it's time I was getting home . . ." 

"Blair, wait, I'm sorry. Please. It won't happen again." 

Blair paused, but he couldn't look at Jim. Instead, he just waited - because he couldn't say anything. No words would make a difference and he wasn't sure he wanted to make a difference. If Jim had been free, then sure, no problem - but there was no way he was going to get into the middle of an existing relationship - no matter how much he might want the man involved. 

Jim didn't approach. He stayed by the window, his shoulders rigid, barely moving. "I am sorry. Honestly. It's just that sometimes, I want to forget, you know?" 

"Jim, I don't want to hear this . . ." 

"I want you to understand," Jim replied, firmly but with an edge of desperation. That edge was enough to make Blair look up. 

"I understand you're married, Jim," Blair murmured, wary but concerned at the same time. "Anything else really isn't my business to know." 

Jim's jaw clenched at that and he nodded, "I know. It's just that, with you here I . . ." 

There was so much there that wasn't being said, so much that Jim had never said to anyone and Blair could see it all in those eyes, hear it all in that voice. How could it hurt to be understanding? Wasn't that all Jim was asking for? A friend? 

Blair put his backpack down, steadying his own reactions inside and walked around the room to the end of the table. He pulled out a couple of chairs and sat in one. After a moment, Jim took the other and they faced each other. 

Lacing his hands together, Jim kept his gaze on them, as though he was too scared to look up. "You don't want to know and I can't tell you anyway and really, it's not about that at all." 

Blair kept his voice gentle, almost soft. Even so, the urge to reach out to this man was overwhelming. "What is it about, Jim?" 

"I'm not sure I know any more. There's just so much . . . pushing at me. Things I can't . . . talk about. And then Carolyn and . . . Some days I don't know who's looking at me in the mirror, you know?" 

"You tried talking to someone?" 

Jim shook his head, "I can't do that, Chief. I just can't. If I did . . . that'd be the end." 

"How?" 

"It just would. And talking . . . it won't help." Jim's voice dropped then, so low Blair almost missed it. "You do." 

Blair frowned. "I do what?" 

"Help." At that, Jim looked up, his gaze meeting Blair's, open and yet guarded, honest and yet secretive. Trusting in a way, but also the opposite. 

Jim was a man trapped in something Blair didn't understand - but he was fairly sure it was about more than a marriage. There was something buried beneath the surface, sitting in the shallows, threatening to peak out and swallow him up. 

Jim was afraid. 

Taking in a breath that wouldn't fill his lungs, Blair said, "Maybe it would just be better if I didn't work with you . . ." 

"No!" A brush of panic lit Jim's eyes and was gone. "No," he shook his head. "You help. I promise I won't say anything again. Just don't . . ." 

"Go? Jim," Blair paused, desperate to offer hope, but knowing none was in his hands, "After this weekend, I have three more days here and then I'm gone. I'm only here to write this article and then . . ." 

"Fuck, I'm behaving like an idiot!" Jim swore, shook his head and looked away. "I know, I know. Look, just forget I said anything okay? It doesn't matter. This is all my own fault anyway and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing asking you to help and how could you when you're leaving? I'm sorry." 

He would have got up then - but Blair reached out and took Jim's hand, holding it between his own. The movement stilled the other man as Blair's fingers brushed over the cool flesh, as he tried to offer some vague semblance of comfort. He would have offered more. Wanted to . . . needed to - but he didn't. Instead, he placed words before them, largely useless, but better than nothing. 

"Jim, if you can't talk to somebody here, then maybe you could see somebody outside the Department. You're confused about something. Getting some help could make all the difference. But you and I both know I can't be that help. I just can't. I want . . . I want to be your friend, if you'll let me - but I can't help beyond that. I can try to find someone if you like, somebody I trust if that will make a difference - but anything more . . ." Blair's voice trailed off as he realized Jim wasn't listening. Instead, the man's eyes had almost glazed over, losing focus. His breathing was short and shallow and he didn't so much as blink. 

"Jim?" 

Nothing. Abruptly terrified, Blair shifted a little closer, careful not to lose contact where he held Jim's hand. "Jim? Can you hear me?" 

Still nothing. Should he call for help? If he did, he'd attract the attention of the entire bull pen - and if this turned out to be nothing, then how would he explain the fact that he was sitting here, holding Jim's hand in the first place? 

Shit. "Jim? Can you hear my voice?" Was this some kind of stroke? Or an epileptic fit or something? 

With terror building inside him, Blair brought his other hand up to cup Jim's face. He got as close as he dared, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper, "Please, Jim, you're scaring me. Come back." 

For a second, nothing happened. Then the focus in those pale blue eyes changed, drawing him in. A single blink followed - and then suddenly Jim's lips were on his, hard, needy, sharp and desperate. 

Blair couldn't move - but then he could and without hesitation, he pushed Jim back a little, trying to see, trying to understand . . . 

What he saw shocked him. There were tears in Jim's eyes. Unshed, glistening, bitter and foreign. The man himself said not a word - but he didn't need to. 

Blair understood. Perfectly. More than Jim knew. 

He was lost. They both were. 

Struck to his heart, Blair took Jim's face between his hands. With only the shortest pause, he leaned forward and kissed Jim, softly, sweetly - and then more deeply, his pain opening up as Jim opened to him. 

Hopelessly lost. 

He didn't want the kiss to end - but it had to. When it did, Blair released Jim, got to his feet, collected his things and walked out. 

He didn't look back. 

* * *

For hours after dark, Jim walked the streets, keeping close to main roads, where there were lights, getting closer and closer to the water. It glistened in the distance, like a sea of hope but he crept towards it without rushing. 

Around ten it started raining. Nothing heavy, not even cold - just a faint spray mist only slightly heavier than fog. He walked further, pausing now and then to duck into an empty doorway, sheltering from the worst before going out again, his collar pulled up, his hands in his pockets. 

Only when he heard the bells of the cathedral chiming midnight, did he stop. Only when he counted how many miles away it was, did he form his first real thoughts. 

Only when he reached the end, did he turn away from it. 

* * *

"Hey, Blair, come on. It's not that bad, is it?" 

He stayed curled up on his couch but didn't move away from the arm Elise put around his shoulders. Instead, he leaned into the warmth. "No, I guess not." 

"See? I told you it was . . ." 

"No, we're not on the brink of World War Three and I guess, all things considered, it could be worse." 

"But not much, right?" 

"Uh huh." Unbidden, Blair's gaze drifted across his walls and over to his bookcase. Hundreds of books about so many different things and not a single word in any of them that could make him feel better. 

"Blair, why don't you just tell him how you feel?" 

"I can't." 

"But if he feels the same way about you, then maybe he'll leave his wife." 

"I don't want that." 

"Why not?" 

Blair uncurled himself and stood, his feet pacing him to the window. "I don't want him leaving her so he can be with me. If his marriage ends, it has to be because that's what's best for them. I'm not a part of that. I don't want to be. And if he can't end it on his own, without my interference then . . ." 

"He's not the man for you?" 

Blair's gaze blindly sought out the park, keeping to the darker areas. "Something like that." 

"Blair, aren't you just taking a position because . . . well, because the idea of being with Jim scares you?" 

Shaking his head, Blair replied, "That's the last thing that scares me. I just can't be involved with this, you know? It's wrong." 

"So this is a moral decision." 

"Yes. Why, is that so hard to believe?" 

"Morals are fine, Blair, it's just that, when applied to real life, well, sometimes the situations we face aren't that clear-cut. I don't want to play Devil's Advocate here - but you are _already_ involved. You were the moment Jim came here the second time. What if he just needs to know there's somebody to catch him before he jumps? What if he needs you to do that?" 

"So, I'm just the convenient catalyst, is that it? God, Elise, why are you assuming he _wants_ out of his marriage?" 

"I . . ." Elise closed her mouth and shrugged. Then she smiled a little, "I just can't imagine anyone not choosing you over somebody else." 

For that, Blair squeezed her arm but couldn't match her smile. "I can't _do_ anything, Elise. I just can't." 

"There's more to it though, isn't there?" 

Was there? Isn't that what he'd seen in Jim's eyes today? So much more. Things he was never likely to find out. God, this was impossible! Impossible to keep containing the deep longing inside him for something he simply couldn't have. The more time he spent around Jim, the closer he was to begging for a chance, begging Jim to leave Carolyn and god, what a hideous mess that would be and fuck, hadn't he learned anything yet? Jim was a cop and there was no way on earth he would have an open relationship with a man and it was all impossible, impossible, impossible and if he didn't stop thinking about it soon he was going to explode. 

Gentle hands pressed into his shoulders. "I think you should try to get some sleep. How many more days do you have to go in until you've got all the data you need?" 

"Two more interviews. With any luck, I could get them done on Monday." 

"So, you have the weekend off then one more day. After that, you can write the article and get yourself out of there." 

"But I don't want to be out of there." Blair whispered, feeling the emptiness of the park all over again. 

"I know, I know," Elise made soothing noises and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Do you want me to stay?" 

Blair took in a deep breath and shook his head. "No, you go. I'll be fine." 

"Sure?" 

"Yeah." He turned, took her hand and squeezed it. "Go on. I'm going to make myself some tea and take it to bed." 

"Call me tomorrow?" 

"Promise." 

"Okay." She gave him a small smile then collected her jacket and purse. He saw her to the door, closing it behind her with a gentle click. 

He headed into the kitchen but ignored the kettle. Instead, he took out a bottle of bourbon and a glass. He swallowed the first shot before he went back into the lounge. A second and third followed and only then did he feel like relaxing back on the couch. He sat with his head on the back, his gaze drifting around his living room as the alcohol drifted around his body. 

A dozen tribal masks from different countries graced one wall. His collection was his pride and joy. The book cases along the opposite wall were actually more impressive however, for the masks were largely of low monetary value whereas his books ranged from obscure anthropological tomes to volumes more than a century old. They were about the only things in this place he could honestly say he really loved. With a desperate lunge, he pulled out his favourite, a first edition copy of Burton's book, The Sentinels of Paraguay. 

He didn't open it. Instead, he let his hand run over the worn leather, feeling the indentations of lettering and age. This is where it had all started and way back then, so many years ago he could hardly remember now, he'd been so sure that with the right resources behind him, he'd find a real sentinel and be able to make the kind of study Burton had only touched upon. 

But he was already eight months into his doctorate and still, the greatest number of heightened senses he'd encountered in one person were two. Not once had he heard of a single reference, even a hint of gossip that there was somebody out there with five hyper senses. 

The bald truth was, his full sentinel probably didn't exist - and if he did, Blair would never find him in time. Or her. Either way, his research was sunk. If he did a good job on this article, Peters would really start to pressure him to change his subject. 

He swallowed another mouthful of bourbon, placed the book on the seat beside him, stuck his feet on the coffee table and put his head back again. 

He wished he could care one way or the other. And that was the really shitty thing. It had been his passion for so many years but for the last six weeks, his world had been turned upside down so many times, he could only feel dizzy. 

Damn Jim for doing this to him! 

No, it wasn't Jim's fault. At least, not all of it. 

The first knock on the door startled him. He lifted his head, blinking, wondering if he'd imagined it. Then it came again and he frowned. It was past 2am. Who the hell ... Shit, Elise! Something must have happened! 

Scrambling to his feet, he almost fell over the coffee table before regaining his balance. Steadying himself on the lounge doorway, he made it into the hall. Without bothering to look through the peephole, he undid the locks and pulled the door open. 

The man who stood there looked like he'd walked to hell and back, all in one day. Ghostly shadows left grey smudges under his eyes - eyes almost devoid of colour. His jacket, hair and shoes were wet through. 

"Jim!" Blair could only breathe his shock - but the sight of him was enough to silence any warning bells going off in his head. There was something seriously wrong here - and Jim had come to _him_. 

"I'm sorry, Chief," Jim murmured, almost swaying on his feet. "I ... I know it's late. I just ... you said we could be . . . friends . . . I . . ." 

Without hesitation, Blair leaned forward, grabbed Jim's hand and pulled him inside. He kicked the door closed and headed for the bedroom, keeping Jim behind him. Before the man could protest, he stripped off the wet layers of clothes and settled him on the bed in t-shirt and boxers. Removing his own clothes, he urged Jim under the covers then climbed in with him. 

Almost instantly, strong arms came around him, holding him tightly. There was a long silence then, broken only when Jim let out an enormous sigh. In the darkness, Blair simply held on, his fingers gently stroking Jim's arm, allowing something like peace to fill the bedroom. 

"Chief..." 

"It's okay, Jim." Blair murmured softly, for the first time in weeks, he was completely certain that he was doing the right thing. "Tell me in the morning." 

He felt Jim nod then closed his eyes. 

* * *

Blair woke long after sunrise, his head throbbing a little, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment - but when he tried to move, he found himself pinned to the mattress by one strong arm and a similarly strong leg wrapped around him. 

Jim's cheek rested on his shoulder. Gently, Blair reached up and soothed down the short cropped hair, letting his fingers brush across a cheek already rough with beard. 

Last night his questions had not needed answers. Last night, the need had been Jim's, a need for rest, for quiet, for time with no words in it. And now, now he just needed to sleep. 

Hardly moving, Blair pressed a soft kiss to Jim's head then proceeded to lift the arm holding him in place. He badly needed the bathroom - and then some water to get rid of his hangover. As he tugged at the arm, Jim sighed lightly and rolled onto his back, setting Blair free. Carefully, Blair checked - but Jim remained asleep. 

Still moving slowly, Blair got up, pulling his t-shirt off as he headed for the bathroom. He kept his shower short, kept the noise down then, with his robe on, he ducked into the kitchen for some juice. 

His thirst abated for the moment, he took a second glass into the bedroom, placed it on the side table, then slipped back under the covers. Almost immediately, Jim gravitated towards him, making him smile. 

Even in sleep, the man was beautiful. All strong jaw and sensitive mouth. All hard muscle and soft innards. 

What had driven Jim to turn up on his doorstep in the middle of the night? And what the hell was Blair doing having him here, sharing a bed with him, getting involved when he'd promised himself to do the exact opposite? 

It was so hard to focus on the demands in his head, when Jim was here, so close, needing this peace and quiet so much. Was it so bad of him to want to leave the moral argument aside for a moment, in favour of supplying a human being with a little comfort? 

Was this the place where academia and reality intersected? 

Blair gave up the argument and instead, settled where he was, his hands drifting gently down Jim's back, wanting to do no more than ease the man's sleep. For almost an hour he lay there, hardly moving, until he felt small shifts in Jim's breathing, tiny indications that he was emerging from his slumber. 

There was no clear moment, no obvious break. One second Jim was asleep, drifting towards wakefulness, the next his lips were on Blair's, kissing him slowly, urgently, deeply with a longing that struck equally deeply into Blair. He moaned and melted, not giving a damn what any of this meant, what would happen afterwards, who else was involved. He didn't care at all - though he knew he would later. Strong hands roamed across his body, seeking and finding, feeling and making themselves felt. Blair, content to do so much more than just lie there, hooked his fingers under Jim's t-shirt and pulled it off over the man's head. Jim had got his robe open and their skin meshed together, setting Blair alight - and Jim along with him. 

Suddenly, the fire heated up, Jim's kisses grew more urgent, more needy as he rolled Blair beneath him, settling himself between Blair's legs. Equally desperate, Blair pushed Jim's boxers down, urging their cocks close. This time the spark drove them together, breathing harsh, the rocking of their bodies necessary and terrible and Blair could hardly breathe but he didn't care because Jim was here, with him, kissing him, making love to him and no, he didn't care at all, didn't care ... didn't care ... 

"Oh, god, Blair!" Jim grabbed him hard, sinking his teeth deep into Blair's shoulder, marking him as he had done every other time they'd made love and the pain, the pain alone set Blair off, his climax blinding him and starving him and sweeping Jim along with him and they tumbled into the wasteland together, holding each other for dear life and it was all so bitter and all so sweet, Blair knew there were tears in his eyes but he didn't care at all. 

Ragged breathing filled the air as he calmed and steadied. Jim's weight remained on him for a moment before the bigger man shifted slightly then settled beside him. He grabbed his t-shirt and cleaned first Blair and then himself off. Only then did he rest down again, pulling Blair close, remaining still. 

The ensuing silence died as Jim said, "I'm sorry." 

Blair kept the heartbreak out of his voice as he replied, "I know." 

He felt arms pulling him a little closer, still needing him and nothing inside Blair worried about it at all - didn't even worry about being hurt again. 

"Chief, I . . ." 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Why don't you grab a shower and I'll make us some coffee and breakfast, okay?" 

"But you ..." 

"Jim, just say yes, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Blair got up then, holding out a hand to Jim to help him up. With a gentle shove, he propelled the bigger man towards the bathroom. Once the door was closed, he sank onto the bed for a minute, putting his head in his hands. 

He could do this. He _could_. He had to because ... well, because Jim needed him, damnit! He _had_ to do it. Had to end it here and now. End whatever the hell was going on with them because he couldn't, wouldn't give in. Couldn't afford to. He'd never forgive himself, never be able to look himself in the eye again. 

This had to finish before it destroyed them both - and Carolyn into the bargain - and if Jim couldn't do it, Blair would. 

But that didn't mean he would do it harshly. Hurting Jim like that simply wasn't in the equation. 

Yes, he could do this. He had to. 

He _would_. 

He dressed, throwing on jeans and shirt before pulling his hair back out of the way. Then he made good on his promise to make breakfast. 

* * *

Blair got fresh mugs down for the second pot of coffee. He poured it and took the cups into the living room. Jim was standing in front of the window, as though he was looking out. Blair left his coffee on the table then sat in a corner of the couch, his legs up beneath him, his mug between both hands. 

Breakfast had passed in silence, Jim's movements more mechanical than anything else. Done, he'd said thanks then moved in here, a solid rock of immobility. 

Blair was prepared to wait as long as it took. 

Jim let out a deep sigh, "I should go." 

"You have to work?" 

"No. Day off. Still, I should go." 

Blair sipped his coffee gingerly, careful not to burn his mouth. "You want to talk about it?" 

"No, I _don't_ want to talk about it!" 

Blair blinked at the volume but it was Jim who winced, casting an apologetic glance over his shoulder. 

"Sorry." 

"That's okay." 

"It's just that I ... I just can't ..." 

"Jim, it's okay." 

The bigger man nodded, hands in his pockets, gaze steady on the window. "I don't want to talk." 

Blair raised his eyebrows, "Actually, you do." 

He could almost hear the frown, "I do?" 

"Yeah." 

The only response to that was a vague nod from Jim - followed by more silence. As it grew, Blair listened to the outside noises, the family downstairs preparing to go out for the day, a truck backing up in the street and the quiet gurgle of the coffee machine. A normal Saturday. 

"I don't know what to do." 

Blair could have questioned this, but didn't. He let the noises comfort him, let Jim sense his comfort, let Jim talk as he wanted to. This was as much a part of ending it as anything else. 

"I keep thinking about it and I don't have a clue." Jim hitched in a small breath and shook his head. "A whole year. Actually, it's more than that now. But it doesn't make any difference saying anything. She just . . . doesn't hear. And then when I . . . she gets angry with me, like it's my fault. Like it's some trick I'm playing. She just wants me like I'm furniture or something. Like I'm an item on a list she's ticked off. Now she can go onto the next thing but it wasn't always like that. Really, it wasn't. Or maybe it was and I didn't see it." 

Blair kept his silence but his ease and comfort were gone. Instead, he hugged his knees, cradled his coffee cup between his hands and bit his lip to prevent himself interrupting - no matter how horrified he was, no matter how he hurt for Jim, no matter how angry he became. 

"And then I ask myself, what if I did that to her? What if I made her that way by something I did? Could I have infected her with my own . . ." Jim paused, tilting his head and Blair wished he would turn around, wished he would let Blair see the confused expression which fit the voice. "I know I loved her, back in the beginning. I must have or I wouldn't have married her - but I can't remember what that felt like. I just want her gone. I want my life back." 

Blair shut his eyes, but he couldn't shut out the sound of Jim's voice, quiet, seeking, questing for answers within himself, knowing he was heard, fearing what he was discovering. 

"I want an end to it - but she won't let me go. She'll never let me go." 

Slowly, Blair opened his eyes at this, frowning. There was more to come - but suddenly, his greatest fear had slunk away, like a whipped dog. 

Jim left the window then. He sank onto the coffee table, sitting in profile to Blair, his voice almost cold. "I guess we were happy for about two years maybe. Things began to slide and we saw counselors and did the therapy, made new starts and bent over backwards to make it work but after another couple of years, it became obvious that it just wouldn't work. Just over a year ago, we had a long talk and came to the conclusion that it was over. All over. If I . . . if I hadn't tried to do the right thing, we'd have been divorced by now and I could . . ." 

Blair leaned forward, placing his hand on Jim's sleeve. "Go on." 

"She wanted to keep our split a secret for a while. I didn't want make things any worse so I said I'd go along with it. After a couple of months, she started talking about how her family simply wouldn't cope with a divorce, how they'd never had one in her family before and she'd be so ashamed and would I just go along with it so she would have time to find a way to tell them. That if I had ever cared for her, I would agree." 

"She still hasn't told them?" 

"Nope. Doubt she ever will at this rate. She has her own room - we haven't slept together for over a year - we live like strangers, we hardly even acknowledge the other's presence in the loft. She doesn't care about me, doesn't love me. I . . . I promised I'd go along with it. I . . . I also promised, as she did, that neither of us would have affairs or anything. I guess, I broke that when I . . ." 

"Yeah," Blair breathed. "Jim, have you told her this? That you want it over?" 

"Yep. She won't listen. Just reminds me of my promise. I don't know what to do. And you . . ." Jim paused, his head dropping along with his voice, "God, Blair I'm so sorry. I didn't want to drag you into this, I just couldn't . . ." 

Blair swallowed as Jim rubbed his hands over his face, his gaze staring into the distance. Something of isolation crept into his voice, haunting his expression. 

"She said that her parents have had separate bedrooms for the last thirty years - like that's some sort of role model we should be following, like _that's_ a real marriage and I'm so tired, so fucking tired of it all." 

Maybe Blair wouldn't have to end it after all. Maybe . . . maybe they had some small shred of hope. But right now, his main concern was Jim and helping Jim right now. 

"Hey," Blair put his mug on the table and took Jim's hand. Gently, he tugged, encouraging the man to lie on the couch with him. He stretched out, keeping Jim with him and just wrapped his arms around the tense body, letting his voice do the rest of the work. "You need to relax. You're so worked up I'll bet you're not sleeping. You've got the worst shadows under your eyes, you know. You can relax now, if you want. Sleep. I've got nothing calling me away. No questions, Jim. No demands." 

As his words came to an end, he placed a soft kiss against Jim's cheek. It was then that Jim turned and met his gaze, with a deep, penetrating look he couldn't deny. Even so, he had no idea what was going on behind those pale blue eyes - he could only guess. 

"I'm sorry I hurt you." 

Blair's mouth dropped open - and abruptly he glanced away, but Jim's hand under his chin, forced his gaze back. 

"You were right. Everything you said about me dragging you into a position you didn't deserve. Everything about how I should have told you from the beginning. But, Chief, I didn't know what would happen between us, you know? I just didn't expect to find ... this." 

"This what?" Blair asked, his voice hopelessly husky in the wake of that admission. 

"This," Jim murmured, then leaned forward and kissed him, soft, gentle, without physical depth but with so much more. When it was done, Blair lay stunned as Jim settled beside him again, arms wrapped around him. 

Gradually recovering his composure, Blair murmured, "Why did you keep trying when you knew she wasn't?" 

"I don't know. I guess I'd made these marriage vows and I figured what's the point of making them if you just fold at the first turn. Before I . . . met you . . . I'd never been with anybody else since we got married. I really did intend for it to be the 'till death do us part' thing. I just don't think she did. It's hard to make a marriage work when one of you isn't committed." 

"Yeah, I guess it must be." Blair fell into silence then, too many things filling his head to process so quickly. Jim seemed content with the quiet and the closeness - but after a while, he realized that Jim had fallen asleep again - and rather than be surprised, Blair in fact, felt a dizzying wave of satisfaction wash over him, the like of which he'd never felt before. Closing his own eyes, he allowed his mind to drift. 

* * *

Jim awoke to find darkness surrounding him, his human comforter gone and a blanket draped over him instead. For a minute, he lay there and blinked at the streetlights threading through the curtains, slowly remembering where he was and what had happened. 

Blair's couch was pretty comfortable - he had only a few aches here and there but apart from that, he felt okay. Well, okay, all things considered. 

The apartment was silent but as he moved, he heard a light ping and then footsteps across the kitchen floor. Rubbing his face awake with both hands, he got up, slipped through the bedroom to visit the bathroom then headed into the kitchen. The room was bright with light. The small table at the other end was covered in books and Blair was perched over them, glasses on his nose, hair falling all over the place. 

Jim's heart warmed at the sight. 

Blair glanced up - smiling instantly. "Hey! You look a better. Hungry?" 

That open and giving smile said everything, really. 

"Yeah, starved. You cooked?" 

"Uh huh. It's ready, too. I was going to wake you up in a minute. Here, I'll just clear this stuff away." He got to his feet and started piling books up. 

"Can I do anything?" 

"There's beers in the fridge if you want one." 

"Do you?" 

"After hours of this? Sure!" 

Jim found the fridge, pulled out a couple of beers as Blair put his work away with the kind of energy that made Jim tired just watching him. Then he set the table as Blair served up a casserole that smelt almost too good to be true. After the first mouthful, he forgot all his good intentions about providing sparkling dinner conversation; his stomach demanded to be filled and he had no choice but to give in. He was on the last slice of bread and mopping up the juices before Blair beat him to it. 

"So, feel better after your sleep?" 

"Much," Jim nodded, rising to get them both another beer. He sat again, pushing his plate out of the way to rest his elbows on the table. He took a mouthful, then - before he could speak and ruin this wonderful peace - he leaned forward and kissed Blair. 

The young man smiled in surprise, but gave in, kissing him in return with equal fervor. Jim threaded his fingers through the soft curls but made no attempt to take it further. As they drifted apart again, Jim found the courage to look Blair in the eye. "Thank you for this, for last night, for today. I don't know what I ..." 

"That's okay." Blair smiled. 

Jim shook his head, frowning, "No, it's not. Not after what I did to you." 

"Hey, it _is_ okay. I do understand." 

"And this morning ... I ... I'm sorry about that." 

Blair blinked a moment then shook his head, smiling a little, "I'm not." 

"But I ..." 

"Hey, man," Blair murmured, "Seemed pretty mutual to me." 

Jim could see the sincerity in Blair's eyes and nodded. "Yeah." 

"So, how are you feeling?" 

Jim released him then, sitting back a little to play with the label on his beer bottle. "I don't know. Confused I guess. No, not confused exactly. I mean, I know what I want, I just don't know what to do about it, you know?" 

"Yeah." 

"And I ..." Jim glanced up to find Blair's gaze on him, open and trusting in a way that gave him strength to continue. "You know, if there hadn't been a Carolyn on the scene, I wouldn't have left that night. In fact, you probably couldn't have dragged me away." 

Blair smiled, almost shyly. 

"But I . . . I have to end things with her properly. I've been trying to for the last couple of months but . . . Anyway, that's not your problem except that right now ... well, I don't want to ruin, you know, whatever this is..." He paused again, seeing the smile fade a little. "I don't want you to think that this is your doing. Carolyn and I were finished a long time before you came along. I don't want to drag you into it more. But I also don't want to lose whatever chance I might have with you." Chance? God, he _had_ to be insane to be thinking they could . . . Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't inflict his growing insanity on somebody he cared about? 

But Blair only gazed at him steadily for a moment, then nodded. 

Jim was forced to continue, "So, I don't think we should ... I mean, I want to ... " Jim broke off, glancing away, his guts once more tightening as hope warred with desperation. "I'd like to see you. I know I shouldn't ask this after what I did to you and my life is such a mess at the moment, but I just thought you should know that I ... well, I mean, I'd understand if you didn't want to date or anything." 

He looked up quickly to see Blair raise his eyebrows - and hurried on, before he could lose his courage. "But maybe, in a while, when things are clear . . . If you can give me a little time . . ." Time? Would more time make things better? Well, he could at least protect Blair a little in the process. Still . . . 

But he silenced the doubts in his mind and continued. "If we get together, I want to be thinking about you - not divorce and Carolyn and other . . . stuff and that's assuming you even want ..." 

He looked up again - to find Blair staring at him with something like wonder. Then that voice broke the silence with words that made every cell in his body sing. 

"I love you." 

And he could only smile a little, his face uncontrollable, his eyes suddenly misty and unreliable and then he was on his feet and the beautiful, wonderful, incredible man was in his arms and Jim was holding on tightly, just holding and being held. 

"God, Chief, I wish I could ..." 

"That's okay, Jim, I understand. You don't need to say ..." 

Jim buried his face against a sweet smelling neck. "I think I'm in love with you but I'm so fucking confused about everything I can't promise and I don't want to come to you unless I _can_ promise because nothing less will be good enough for you, okay?" 

"Okay, it's okay, Jim, I can wait, really, I do understand, I do ..." 

"This is just crazy, you know?" 

"Like we hardly know each other and ..." 

"We slept together a few times but how can that mean ..." 

"But it seems to and I don't even think I care how or why ..." 

"It _is_ crazy but I don't care at all, Chief, I just don't ..." 

"Me either..." 

Further words were lost as Blair kissed him in a way that made him dizzy, made him hurt deep inside, made him full of joy. Blair loved him. God, _Blair loved him!_ That thought alone was enough to make Jim light-headed and the kiss just gave him something to drown in, long and tender and so perfectly wonderful. 

Then the man settled in his arms and they just held onto each other, for the first time, being allowed to really feel what they had found together. 

Blair _did_ make it better. So much better. Over the last few weeks, with this man around almost every day, the sensory spikes had left him alone. Only a couple of times had his sleep been disturbed and he'd only had a couple of blank moments. 

Maybe he _had_ been imagining it all because . . . because he'd missed having this in his life. Maybe Blair, holding onto Blair, loving Blair would make it better. It would certainly make a lot of other things better. 

Yeah, perhaps there was some hope here after all. 

After a while, he felt Blair hitch in a little breath, "Jim? I . . . would you like to stay tonight?" 

Jim groaned, half chuckling. He leaned back a little to see that whimsically hopeful face gazing up at him, "You offering me the couch, Chief?" 

"Won't fit both of us." Blair lifted an idle shoulder, "But I do have a really comfortable bed, you know." 

"Mmmn, I do know," Jim gave Blair's ass a teasing slap. "And look what happened last time I was in that bed with you." 

"Um," Blair looked serious, "and the time before. And the ... er... time before that." 

Jim was already laughing. It felt so damned good to be able to. "Come on, let's get these dishes cleared up. It's about time I was getting home." 

"No, that's okay." Blair shook his head with a smile. "I think you'd better go now, before I do something you'll regret." 

Jim smiled again, "Okay." 

"Only ..." 

"What?" 

"Just ..." 

Jim had no trouble reading the serious thoughts going on behind those eyes. In reply, he simply kissed Blair's forehead and nodded, "I don't know, Chief. But I'm not just going to go off and never call you, if that's what you're thinking. You know where I work. I can't escape from you - not that I want to. Not the way I want you. In fact . . ." 

"God, Jim will you get the hell out of here?" Blair sighed with exaggeration, his eyes laughing. "Please? Now?" 

Jim gave the man one last kiss, collected his jacket from the lounge and found Blair waiting at the door. 

"Just one more thing, before you go." 

"What?" 

"If you need ... me ..." Blair's deep blue eyes filled in the blank words. "Just turn up, okay? No questions, no obligations, no nothing. Can you promise me that much?" 

"Yeah," Jim nodded, "I can." 

Then before he could give in to the need right then and there, he brushed his fingers over Blair's cheek and opened the door. Moments later he was out on the street, trying to remember where the hell he'd parked the truck last night. 

* * *

Blair spent Sunday in a flurry of activity. He woke early, cleaned the apartment until he could see his face in the carpet then sat down and wrote the bulk of his article so well, he was prepared to submit it in first draft format. He still had two more interviews to do so he left gaps to place the remaining data - but even so, it was a damned good piece of work even if he did say so himself. 

Just to be on the safe side however, in the evening, he called Professor Peters and took the article over for him to have a look at. He tried not to watch, but he could see the growing look of satisfaction in the old man's eyes and only then did he start to relax about it. When Peters was done, he sat back, poured Blair another glass of port and took his glasses off. 

"I think you should write your dissertation on this. A longer, more detailed study, obviously, but you have such a strong understanding of subcultures, Blair, I'd hate to see your talents wasted on some tale that Burton spun a hundred years ago." 

Blair had suspected this would be the outcome - but although some part of him didn't mind the idea too much, the rest of his heart was still settled firmly with the sentinel project. 

It had been his first real passion. His first love, in a way. He simply couldn't give it up. Not ever. 

Of course, if he couldn't find a sentinel to study, Peters would have his way - but still, Blair would keep watch for what he was sure was out there, somewhere. 

He told Peters he would think about it, promised to give him a copy of the finished article and went home, both body and brain exhausted from so much activity. He had a long soak in the bath and then climbed into bed, spreading out to feel the space, allowing the freedom to fill him. 

If he _did_ do his dissertation on closed societies, on the Cascade PD, then he'd be working with Jim again - or at least, working at the same place Jim worked. How would the other man feel about that? And if he didn't mind, then Blair would get to see the cutting edge of his specialty, stand on the line where theory met fact, where research blended with reality. 

He was tempted, he knew - so if his search for a sentinel failed, he would switch and be content with it. 

Stretching to relax, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that tomorrow, he would see Jim again. 

Jim, the man he loved. 

He fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

* * *

The sun was shining brightly when Blair left his apartment the next morning, heading for the PD. Despite the chill in the spring air, Blair left the car window down, wanting to feel the wind, feel the sun on his face. 

Despite his long rest and deliberate preparation, he still arrived a little late - to find his first interview waiting for him. Without a moment to even find Jim to say hello, he slipped into the first empty room and sat down to work. An hour later, he had all he needed and went in search of his last subject. Tracked down on the third floor, he spent another hour asking questions, getting answers and feeding off the adrenaline rush he'd always loved about learning. 

And then he was done. 

Trying not to look like he was hurrying, he put his things in his pack and took the lift to Major Crimes. He arrived in time to see Jim slip into the meeting room and with his feet urging him on, Blair followed. As casually as he could, he went inside, closing the door behind him. Jim was at the other end of the table and looked up. 

For a moment, those eyes overwhelmed Blair, the depths he saw in them, the crystal clarity of what Jim was feeling. God, the man was so beautiful. Blair's breath to shortened, his hands to shook a little - but it was a nice feeling for a change. Very nice. 

"Hi," he murmured. 

"Hi," Jim's voice came out as an intimate whisper. 

Without even thinking about it, Blair's feet took him to the end of the table, brought him to stand before Jim. 

"I . . ." 

"What?" Jim's smile was gentle and warm. 

"I have this irrational desire to kiss you." 

Jim's smile broadened, "Irrational, huh?" 

"Wouldn't be a good idea though, would it?" 

"Great idea - just not here, that's all." Jim glanced at the door, "Besides, we're not . . ." 

"I know," Blair nodded, not bothered by the technicalities any more. If they weren't actually together right now, they still had a future, somewhere in the coming months. That was enough. 

"We've . . . um . . . finished with these files. Want to help me pack them up?" 

"Sure." 

Blair put down his backpack and helped Jim stack the files back into the big box they'd come in, all the while trying to forget that when he was done, he'd be leaving this place, losing his observer's ID and not coming back tomorrow. Sure, he could make an excuse for a few more days - but it wouldn't be a good idea, not now, not after what had happened between him and Jim. 

With the last file put away, Jim stuck the lid back on the box, leaving his hand there for a moment, his gaze down. Then, with a short breath, he fished into his back pocket and brought out a card. He handed it to Blair. 

"That's my . . . address and phone. Cell phone, too. If you need anything, if you're ever in trouble. If you want to call me or . . . whatever . . ." 

"Thanks," Blair's voice was a soft whisper, harsh from containing all he felt. "Jim?" 

The bigger man looked up. 

"You will take care of yourself, won't you?" 

"Sure." 

"I love you." 

That brought another huge smile from the big man. His gaze dropped a moment but then he took Blair's hand in his, just linking some fingers together, a touch, a connection. "Listen, I'll be talking to Carolyn tomorrow. She's got some thing on tonight and won't be home until late. I don't know how it will go but it's my guess it could be messy. Just so you know, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Jim looked up then, his gaze once more softening. His other hand came up then, touching the side of Blair's face, grazing across his lips. "I _am_ in love with you, Blair. Just remember that, okay?" 

"Okay." 

For a moment, they swayed together, coming so close they could almost have kissed - but Blair caught himself. This was not the time, nor the place and if anybody should walk in - 

"Oh, Jim, there you are, I . . ." 

With a start, they sprang apart, turning to find . . . 

"Oh, Jesus . . ." 

Jim's whispered horror struck right through Blair as they both stared at Carolyn's frame, standing in the doorway. The woman said nothing, and after the first moment, even her shock disappeared, leaving a cold, icy gaze on both of them. 

Without another word, she backed out, closing the door behind her carefully. 

Still staring at the door, Jim said, "Chief, I think you should . . ." 

"I'm going, Jim, I'm going." And he was, picking up his pack, putting it on his shoulder, already moving away from Jim, leaving him. 

"Chief?" 

"Yeah?" He stopped at the door, almost afraid to turn. 

"If she says anything to you on the way out, just ignore her, okay? I'll deal with it." 

"Okay." Then he turned, taking one last look. "Look after yourself, Jim." 

"I'll call you. Tonight or tomorrow. Either way, I'll call you, I promise." 

Blair nodded. He waited another heartbeat - but then turned and left. There wasn't really anything else he could say. 

Jim had to do this on his own. 

* * *

"How could you!" 

Jim stood in the centre of the loft as Carolyn paced up and down before him, face red with anger, hands flying. 

"How could you do that to me? And right there, under my nose - where I _work_ , Jim! How could you be so damned selfish!" 

"Carolyn, that's not what . . ." 

"I don't want to hear it, Jim!" She stopped before him, bellowing in his face. "You've humiliated me! And with a . . . with a . . . _man_! That's just so . . . disgusting! How could you bring yourself to . . ." 

She hauled in a breath, "How long has it been going on? Is _he_ why you wanted a divorce? God, now all those questions he asked make sense now. Wanting to know about our private life, whether a gay cop could . . ." She shuddered and Jim tried to reach out, to make some kind of connection so she might be able to understand but she flinched away from him, totally wound up in her indignant fury. 

"Please, just listen to me. Let me explain." 

"Explain what? What did he do to you to get you into his bed? No, I take that back, I don't want to know." 

Jim caught in a breath and held on. This wasn't the way he wanted to do it - but perhaps in the long run, it was for the best. At least this way she'd see there was no point in them continuing the charade of being married. 

"Carolyn, it's time we got out, okay? We haven't been married for over a year. If this all disgusts you, then look, let's just get divorced and be done with it." 

"Divorced?" She looked at him like he'd just suggested she move to the moon. "You are joking, aren't you? You honestly think I'm going to divorce you and let you go off with that . . . that _whore_? So my friends and family will know you threw me out for a man? Are you out of your mind?" 

Jim struggled to find words, to keep his temper, to make some difference here, "They don't have to know . . ." 

"Damned right they don't have to know - because it's not going to happen! You promised to be faithful, even though we weren't together any more, you promised that you wouldn't sleep around. Was that so much to ask?" 

"I didn't sleep around. It wasn't like that . . ." but it was pointless arguing. She wouldn't believe him. God, she wasn't even listening to him. Besides, he _had_ broken his promise. 

"No," Carolyn came to a halt in front of him, pulling in breaths, composing herself and something inside Jim rattled worry around like a freight train. "No, that's not how this is going to go. You agreed we wouldn't get divorced - 

"That was just a temporary thing and you know it. I didn't mean we wouldn't get divorced _ever_ -" 

"And we won't. There's no way you're going to humiliate me like that again. And that . . . that tramp . . ." 

Jim's blood began to boil. He had to clench his fists against his sides to contain it. 

"You can dump him like the trash he is. I don't want you seeing him ever again, do you hear me?" 

Jim snapped, "You can't order my life, Carolyn! Who I love, who I'm with has nothing to do with you! We're finished, over! You know that!" 

"Of course we're finished! You honestly think I'd ever want to have anything to do with a man who could . . . do _that_ with another man?" Carolyn's disgust reeked through her words. "But as far as the outside world is concerned, we're still married - and right now, that's all I care about. You _will_ give him up, Jim." 

"No." 

"Yes," Carolyn's gaze narrowed and in that moment, he hated her. Totally and completely. "You'll give him up - or I'll out you at the station." 

Jim stared, stunned, unable to react immediately, cold draining into his stomach like an icy waterfall. Then, shaking his head, he said, "You'd do that? Just to . . ." 

"What you've done is unforgivable - but I'm willing put that aside if you give me your solemn promise that you will never see that man again - or any other man, for that matter. If you promise, I'll keep your secret safe. I will not allow you to tear my life to shreds, Jim. I just won't." 

"But you don't mind tearing mine to shreds, do you?" 

"And just in case you do care for him, I'll also write a letter to the Rainier Board, complaining of his unbecoming behavior and that he spent his time at the station trying to seduce my husband. I promise you, I could ruin him just as easily." 

"No! Carolyn, I'm warning you, if you do anything to him, I . . ." 

Carolyn shook her head, walked around him and collected her purse. "You have two hours to go tell him that it's over - and be grateful I'm allowing you that much - you just make sure he knows it's over because I do not want him coming around here or making phone calls. If you're not back by the time I get home, in the morning I go straight to Captain Banks \- and every gossip monger at the station - with what I know about you. You'll be finished - and so will he. Think your faggot lover will want you then?" 

She didn't say any more. She just walked out, not bothering to close the door after her. 

* * *

Blair returned from the library, his arms full of books and struggled to open his office door. Banging his elbow as he engineered his way inside, he wasn't quite quick enough to catch the phone. All he heard were the last few peeps of his answering machine. 

He pushed the door closed with his hip, dumped the books on the desk and hit the play button while he took off his jacket. Spring was certainly here but it would be another month before the weather warmed up enough for him - and then another month after that, it would start to get cold again. If the anthropology program at Rainier hadn't been one of the best in the country, he would have headed south for his post-grad studies and pretended the cold north didn't exist. 

He was behind his desk, ready to start work when the machine peeped again and the message began to play. In a moment, the voice alone made his guts clench. He hardly heard the words but enough of the meaning came through loud and clear. 

" . . . don't have much time. If you're there and you can get away, I'll meet you at your apartment. I'm sorry, Chief, I don't have any choice. I'll explain everything . . . I'm so sorry . . ." 

Blair was on his feet and at the door by the time the message had ended. 

* * *

He tried not to panic as he drove. He may as well have tried not to breathe. 

Hope was such a dangerous lure, so attractive, so ingrained. But Jim's voice, his words sucked all the hope out of Blair, leaving him with nothing but an expectation for the worst. 

It was dark by the time he drove past Barnies. Dark enough for the neon sign to flash in the corner of his eye. 

And the flash brought up memory and need and want and desire and desperation and despair. 

He'd only just discovered what he wanted and now he was about to lose it. 

Jim's truck was parked outside his building. Blair pulled into a space two cars away and climbed down. Calm now, he walked along the truck, his hand gently touching the side, feeling the smooth surface, the indentations of age. They were both born in the same year, this truck and he. 

He turned for his building, made it to the door and pulled out his keys. The lock sounded terribly loud, the hall so terribly quiet, the building horribly cold. Steady feet took him upwards, the first flight, then the second, then the third. 

Jim was waiting for him, standing by his door, ready, unready, tense, contained. 

Everything inside Blair wanted to turn and run from this, to pretend this wasn't going to hurt. 

But instead, he just stood there, prepared, hoping they would both survive. 

* * *

Jim hated. 

He hated his life. He hated Carolyn. He hated everything that had brought him to this point, devoid of direction, empty of control. 

Most of all, he hated the darkness in Blair's eyes. There was knowledge there, understanding and although there were a thousand things Jim wanted to say, needed to say to explain or at least tell him what had happened, he realized he didn't need to say anything at all. 

Blair knew. 

The minutes stretched out as they stood there. Jim couldn't take his eyes from this man, this surprise, this gift he'd been so lucky to find. Even if he was about to lose it forever, he would always appreciate what he'd had in this short time. 

Eventually, Blair spoke, his voice even, unaffected by the darkness in his eyes. "How much time?" 

"A few hours," Jim whispered. "Not enough." 

"No." Blair shook his head and for a moment, seemed to struggle. But then he straightened his shoulders, moved to the door and unlocked it. He paused then, his head dropping, hair slipping forward to reveal the smooth neck. Jim was close enough to touch, to reach out and press the smallest of kisses there. 

Blair shuddered. Slowly, his head came up, his eyes seeking out Jim's again and there was in them a depth of need Jim could understand without trying. Now the knowledge was his - and he knew exactly what to do with it. 

He pushed the door open, took Blair's hand and led him inside. He stopped only long enough to lock the door behind him before taking Blair along the corridor and into the bedroom. There he came to a halt, his love standing before him, watching him, eyes too serious for someone his age. 

Without a word, Jim began to undress him, slipping the jacket from stiff square shoulders, the shirt following - but when he got to the jeans, hands came up and stopped him, eyes for a moment, searching his, asking for something and seeming to find it. 

Blair lifted his head and placed a kiss on Jim's lips, a touch, no more. Then his hands began to undress Jim, one layer at a time. As each new stretch of skin was revealed, Blair placed another feathersoft kiss there, bringing Jim alive, touch by touch. His skin felt on fire, but in a warm, fizzy way and again he realized his senses had stepped up a level, switching on to make everything seem so much _more_ , so much brighter, so much clearer. 

Blair kissed a line down his chest, pausing only to undo belt and trousers. The kisses followed the zipper down, mouth taking the hard flesh he found there as his hands removed the rest of Jim's clothes. Jim had to fight to take in a breath as Blair's tongue grazed over him, still so soft, as though he were afraid to make an impression, afraid of Jim's reaction. 

Naked now, Jim watched Blair pause on his knees, his hands on Jim's cock, his head lifting up. Again, he met that gaze, grave now, a little scared, the mouth working to form some kind of words. 

"Jim, I . . . I . . ." 

"Shh," Jim whispered. He knew. Knew in his own heart without reading Blair's. 

He lifted Blair up and kissed him softly, his lips, his eyes, his face, while his hands removed Blair's jeans, stripped him until their nakedness was shared, until there were no more barriers between them, until there was nothing but their desire. 

Now Jim could take Blair's face between his hands, force that gaze to meet his once more. "She's not here, my love. This is just us. Forget everything else." 

And Blair's eyes were suddenly shining, with moisture, with love, with a smile that would have ripped Jim apart if he hadn't been holding the man at the time. Blair nodded, took Jim's hands in his and stepped back towards the bed. 

They lay down, each movement matched and twinned, until they were together, kissing, hands skimming over each other, remembering, learning anew, allowing the desire to rise slowly, taking whatever time they needed. 

Blair's skin felt soft as silk to Jim's sensitive hands. He hungered for it, couldn't stop touching it, fed on the tiny noises Blair made as he pressed his thumb against a stiff nipple, grazed his nails over the muscled back, fitted his palm onto a rounded ass. Shifting into him further, Blair's own hands toyed with Jim's body, arousing him in gradual steps, higher and higher, brightening the flames of his lust until there was a steady fire burning in his belly, a fire of need. 

Need had driven him into this man's arms. Need for a man, a man's body, for the kind of sex he could only have with a man. Need had brought him here and now need kept him on that wire, panting, heart thudding, breathing in deeply of Blair's scent, living off it. 

He moved. He took Blair's hands, rolled him onto his back, pushing the hands above him, pinning them there as he let his tongue taste all it wanted, running down a fevered throat, feeling the pulse line, the increase in beats, tasting all, and god, this was wonderful, so sweet, so delicious, the skin a temptation to his all-consuming hunger. 

He moved again, down further, biting nipples, taking Blair's groans into himself, biting again, licking to ease the pain until both buds were hard, reddened, almost glowing with Blair's need. He didn't want to leave them but other parts of this wonderful man's body craved his attention so he moved again, down, sending his tongue in long sweeps over the tense flesh of a flat stomach, down until he could bury his face in sweet smelling curls. 

He moaned, his throat and stomach warming to that scent, remembering so very well, the first time he'd done this, and god, he'd have to do it again, had to take that cock into his mouth, would never be able to leave here until he did and so his tongue led him there, trailing wet along the thick shaft, curling around the head, dipping into the slit to drink, to take Blair's essence inside him, make it a part of him. Then he took the cock into him, slowly into his mouth, delighting in the fullness of it, in the way Blair's hips rocked beneath him, thrusting, needing more, needing to go deeper, wanting more of the heat Jim offered him. 

Jim could have stayed like that, Blair's cock in his mouth, for hours if he'd been able to, so rich and deliberate was the act of sucking, of licking and tasting, almost eating so intimate a part of this man. But Blair was close - not too close - but close enough and Jim didn't want to force him over the edge. Not this time. So he slowed and gentled, toyed and played instead, taking each drop of fluid as it formed, letting it sit on his tongue to gather the taste before swallowing and keeping the jewel. 

Hands rubbed his shoulders, encouragement, acceptance, agreement, enjoyment, delight, all composed in those simple gestures - until pressure warned him, fingers digging into him a little, asking him. Only then did Jim let the cock slip from his mouth. He looked up to find Blair watching him, tenderness and lust mixed wonderfully together in those huge eyes. 

Jim smiled. Blair smiled back at him. 

Like lightening, Jim spread himself over the man, taking that mouth for a long, deep kiss, once more letting his tongue speak it's own language. Blair laughed a little in his throat, pushed playfully until he hooked an ankle around Jim's thigh and rolled them both until he was on top. With more urgency now, Blair nipped and sucked his way down Jim's chest, each slash of hot pain sending spikes of pleasure throughout his entire body. By the time Blair reached his cock, Jim was ready to come, ready to just let it go - but he didn't, he contained and controlled it, wanting to feel Blair's mouth around him first, needing that before anything else. 

Blair's mouth descended on him swiftly, taking no prisoners. Dark, wet heat engulfed him, making him shudder and close his eyes so he could just feel, god, feel that, so good, so very good - but then his eyes opened because he wanted to see, wanted to watch what this man was doing to him. 

Blair knew how to drive him to the edge and back, again and again, with sucking his balls in, nipping his way back up to Jim's cock, trailing his tongue up the length, letting his teeth graze the tender under side, smearing his lips over the moisture gathered at the top. All this before sucking the cock back into his mouth, taking it as deep as he could, before drawing back up. He kept his eyes open, watching what he was doing, glancing up now and then to see Jim, gauge his reaction, his readiness to move on. 

Jim was breathing hard, writhing on the bed before Blair came to a halt. The young man lifted his head, met Jim's gaze steadily then slid back up him, leaving another trail of kisses. He rested on Jim a moment, burying his face in Jim's neck, just holding on. Then he reached to the bedside drawer, retrieved a tube and pushed it into Jim's hand. Only then did he let his gaze rise to meet Jim's. 

Neither of them said anything. Their needs could not be met by words now. Perhaps never. 

Blair slid off him and lay on his side, leaving Jim to kiss and caress his back. Slowly, he worked his way down, letting his mouth do the work while his hands opened the tube. By the time he reached the cleft, his fingers were there as well, opening a space, slipping between to find that pucker, to touch and press. 

Blair moaned, short, needy, like a child hungry for food. Jim pressed harder and the muscle gave way, letting him inside the heat, inside Blair's centre. A huge gust of air left him then, something like relief, something he had no time to analyze. Blair moved his top leg forward, offering Jim more room, giving him more space. Jim slipped a second finger in to join the first and Blair shuddered beside him. 

Kissing the beautiful shoulder, Jim crooned to him, wordless noises, all to ease the invasion, all to make it better, to give him pleasure, to make him enjoy it. 

God, how he wanted to do this. Had wanted it from the beginning, wanted Blair, like this, a film of sweat covering his body, shivering and whispering with want, to be inside him, to take him his first time. Yes, he wanted this. So much. 

Carefully, he angled and slid another finger inside Blair, stretching him, preparing him, ensuring he would not be hurt, protecting him, denying him the pain intercourse could cause. Blair only moved back on his hand, forcing a deeper connection, his own hands gripping the pillow under his head, as though he didn't dare reach out, didn't dare do anything that might halt this. 

Jim wasn't sure he'd ever seen a man who wanted to be taken as much as Blair wanted this. 

With another soft kiss to that smooth shoulder, Jim withdrew his fingers carefully, feeling Blair tense up as he did so, knowing what would come next. Jim said nothing. Instead, he took the lube again and smeared enough on his cock to ease his passage into Blair, then he tossed the tube aside and moved up behind that perfect ass, positioning himself for that first thrust, the one Blair needed so much. 

But he waited a moment longer. Just a moment - and in that moment, Blair turned to look over his shoulder, and Jim took that mouth in the kiss that meant so much. As his tongue pushed into Blair's mouth, so he moved his hips, pushing his cock into Blair, making the man bite down, gasp in air, moan, stiffen. 

"Oh!" 

But Jim could tell there was no pain, could tell it was surprise more than anything else. He let Blair's mouth alone then, as he slid his cock deeper, watching those wonderful eyes give away all that he was feeling, letting Blair see all he wanted to see in Jim's eyes. 

God, this felt so good! Inside and out. Simply watching Blair's reaction would have been enough - but to push his cock into that heat, that silky channel, to be inside a man like this again, this man in particular, to feel Blair grasp him close, pull him in further was almost too much. 

Only age and discipline stopped him from coming the second he was inside. 

He stopped there a moment, letting Blair just feel it, letting him experience the sensations of having a cock buried deep in his ass. He was waiting, waiting for that subliminal signal that would show him when Blair was ready. 

It came when Blair's eyes closed, when his mouth opened, his hands slid down his chest to find his own cock. Jim, taller and able to see this, raised himself up a little and watched those hands fondle and pull, caress and tease and slowly, so wonderfully slowly, he began to ease his cock in and out of Blair, fucking him so perfectly slowly, just as he'd always wanted. 

Blair's strokes matched his, and each plunge inside, Jim punctuated with a nipping kiss to Blair's shoulder. He had no idea how long he would last, but he would make it last as long as he could. 

With deep, measured breaths, Blair undulated against him, grinding his ass back to take more, and Jim was struck with the beauty before him, the unbridled passion with which Blair moved. He kissed further, sucking a bite into tender neck tissues, feeling Blair bristle with the pain, feeling it drive him back further onto the cock inside him. Blindly now, Blair twisted his head around, needing a kiss and Jim gave it to him, his hips moving faster, the heat between them almost unbearable now. 

Blair drew closer to the edge, his breathing no more than short, stunted gasps, small whimpers of pleasure that set Jim spiraling down, dizzy and needy. He gripped Blair's hip with one hand, slid the other beneath him to take that cock, so their hands were joined together and still Blair undulated against him, still gasped with each thrust, still needed more and Jim would wait, wait as long as it took because this was for Blair, for both of them, forever, and he shifted, angled his thrust up and deeper and reveled in the cry Blair gave as he pushed against that spot, grazed it with his cock again and again and it was enough, just enough, enough for both of them and with an anguished groan, Blair jerked, again and again, and suddenly his cock flinched, sending streams of semen over his hand, over Jim's hand, over the sheets, his ass clenching Jim's cock, squeezing, milking and Jim could wait no longer and he let it go, relinquished control, gave it to Blair and began to come deep inside him, giving and giving and loving and filling him until there was nothing left to give and yet so much. 

Collapsing back, Jim retained his hold on Blair, listened to his love gasp in air, listened to his own lungs struggle and win, just listened to the growing silence, feeling his cock soften, his skin tingle with Blair still close. Finally, when he was no longer in danger of passing out, he gently withdrew, feeling the ass still spasm slightly at his movement. Free, he rolled Blair over to face him, kissed him and gathered him close. 

Only then did he close his eyes - but he didn't sleep - and he could tell Blair was wide awake as well. They simply lay there, quiet, sated and filled with a hunger that would never now be appeased. 

Now Jim listened with ears still attuned to this man. Listened beyond the walls of this place to the street outside, the neighbors, the evening, the darkness. It was all so vivid and real, he knew he wasn't imagining it, felt like he could almost be out there as well, in the fresh cold air. 

Knew that he soon would be. 

As each minute ticked by, he held the man in his arms, head nestled against his chest, one hand entwined in his own, the other holding on. When finally he moved, Blair moved with him, not fighting, not delaying, simply together with him, for as long as they could. 

Jim took a corner of the sheet and cleaned Blair, checking with careful fingers that there was no damage, no blood and tidied them both as much as possible. After that, Blair rolled off him, allowing him to get up, allowing him to find his clothes and pull them on. The room was full of darkness, only a blade of streetlight slicing through the curtains. Last of all, Jim tugged his jacket on, straightening everything, making sure he was fit to walk out into the street. When he was ready, he turned back to Blair, sitting in bed, against the headboard, sheet pulled up around his hips. 

The young man was watching him, nothing showing in his eyes. Jim sat beside him, and took his hands. There was still so much he wanted to say - but all of it seemed irrelevant to what really mattered, so he kept his silence. Instead, he leaned forward and Blair closed the gap. The kiss was long, sweet, deep and aching. Soft lips met his, devoured his and then, with a sigh, left his. 

There were tears in Blair's eyes when Jim looked again. Huge tears which tipped over his cheeks, ran down to his chin. Jim just nodded and lifted his hand to those eyes. Carefully, he brushed his fingers over the lids, closing them, shutting out the light. He placed one more soft kiss against that mouth then moved back as more tears joined the others. 

Blair did not open his eyes as Jim backed out of the room and something told him that when he closed the front door behind him, Blair held onto the darkness. 

He knew he took his own with him. 

Part Three 

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,  
Which like two spirits do suggest me still  
The better angel is a man, right fair,  
The worser spirit a woman, colour'd ill 

Sonnet 144  
Shakespeare 

The continuous knocking at the door was what finally roused Blair. He dragged himself out of bed, blindly grabbed a robe and slung it around his shoulders. He was still tying the belt when he reached out for the first lock. By the time he'd undone the second, he'd lost interest in who was visiting at this time of the day, and turned around, aiming once again for bed. 

"Blair?" 

He stopped, faltering in his determination to hibernate. That gentle voice called him back, made him wait until Elise could wrap her arms around him, until he could bury his face in her shoulder. She didn't feel like Jim - but she felt better than being alone. 

"Come on, sweetheart, let's sit down, okay?" 

He nodded, and turned back for the bedroom which was the only part of this place he could face being in at the moment. He sat on the bed, back against the headboard, grabbed a cushion and hugged it close. Elise sat before him, not too close, but not so far away that he couldn't sense her presence. 

"What time did he leave?" 

"Just before eleven last night." Blair couldn't look at her. He could only stare at the wall opposite, or out the window, or up at the ceiling \- or pluck at the pillow he held. 

"Have you eaten anything?" 

He shook his head. "M'not hungry." 

Elise paused a moment before asking the next question. "Do you know what she said to him?" 

"No, not exactly - but I . . . I know what she did. She would have threatened him, maybe even threatened me. He warned me she wouldn't let him go." 

"What could she have threatened him with? He's a cop, isn't he?" 

"So's she - and that's the problem. I bet she told him she'd out him, I don't know, something like that. There's just no way he would have . . ." Blair caught in a breath then, unable to go on. 

Seeing his distress, Elise climbed on to the bed next to him, put an arm around his shoulders, let him relax against her. "Are you sure, Blair? Really sure?" 

"Yeah," he breathed. 

"What did he say?" 

"We . . . we didn't really talk. We . . ." 

Her voice soft now, Elise murmured, "He made love to you?" 

"Yes," Blair whispered, the admission bringing with it only a memory of the joy of those hours with Jim, nothing more. For that at least, he was thankful. "I'm behaving like a total wimp, aren't I?" 

"You're allowed to at times like these. There's a rule written down about it somewhere. You can be strong later." 

"Don't feel very strong." 

"What do you feel?" 

Blair studied the wall opposite. A huge Nepalese rug covered most of it, rich in nubbly colours, something Naomi had brought back for him after one of her many trips. She was always bringing him presents because she said she liked to think of him while she was away, liked to spend the time choosing something he would like. Said it helped keep her grounded. 

"I feel numb," the words slipped out of him. "Like I got zapped by a full body electric shock and any second now, my nerves are going to feel it - but just at the moment, I'm numb. Nobody warns you, you know? Nobody says, hey, you get involved with somebody, you could end up feeling like this." 

"The warnings are everywhere, Blair. We just don't ever pay attention until it's too late." 

"Everywhere?" 

"Popular music - or better still, country and western. Poetry, literature. Enough to stretch to Jupiter and back." 

Blair took in a deep breath, tried to ease the tightness in his chest. He let it out with no result at all. This wasn't going to go away in a hurry, he knew that much. "I just don't know how I can face it, you know?" 

"Face what?" 

"Knowing he's stuck with her, having to live with her. Man, I couldn't do that, really, I couldn't. I'd probably kill her or something but Jim, he has to stay with her for like, forever or until she decides she doesn't want him any more. I can't face what that will do to him. He's got other stuff going on, things he . . . doesn't talk about and I don't think she's got a clue. She's just going to keep hurting him because she can. I hate just thinking about that." 

"You're . . . um . . . not thinking of confronting her, are you?" 

Blair snorted with mock humour - he couldn't manage the real thing. "Yeah, like anything I could say would make a difference. And if I did, she'd probably carry out her threat to Jim and his sacrifice would have been for nothing. No, much as I'd like to feed her to some friendly pirhanna I know, I don't want to go anywhere near her. I'm just worried about him." 

"Oh, sweetie," Elise said, in a way that reminded Blair of his mother. "You're way gone on this guy, aren't you, eh? Who would have thought it would be so easy to snare you?" She pressed a kiss to his temple. "Listen, how about I throw together some pasta while you have a shower. Then, if you like, I'll go through your article with you. It's got to be submitted tomorrow, hasn't it?" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"You guess?" 

Blair gazed down at his fingers where they clutched the pillow tight. He'd thought he wouldn't care any more but the truth was, he did. In fact, if anything, he cared more now than before. What Carolyn had done was . . . despicable and even if Jim was still at her mercy, Blair wasn't. Jim had bought him that freedom. He'd be betraying all they'd shared if he just sank without so much as waving his arms for a life jacket. 

"What kind of pasta?" 

"Got any mushrooms?" 

That made him smile, "Not the kind you're thinking of." 

"Oh, well, in that case, you'll have to take pot luck." 

"Pot Luck Pasta it is." He climbed off the bed then, heading for the bathroom, calling out a quick thank you to Elise as she disappeared into the kitchen. He paused however, when he reached his washing basket. Half full, it was nice and heavy and perfect for what he had in mind. He lined it up, swung his foot back and kicked it for all he was worth. The basket, the dirty clothes and a few books he'd left stacked both on top and behind it - all went flying. 

Satisfied, he went into the shower. He didn't want to wash the traces of Jim from his body - but he didn't have much choice. 

* * *

Continued in part four.

Link to text version: http://www.squidge.org/archive/cgi-bin/convert.cgi?filename=firsts3/moreand_c.html


	4. Chapter 4

This story has been split into four part for easier loading.

## More And Less

by Jack Reuben Darcy

Author's webpage: <http://internetdump.com/users/angiet>

Author's notes and disclaimer can be found in part one. 

* * *

More and Less - part four   
By Jack Reuben Darcy 

"Jim?" 

"Jim!" 

The hand shaking his shoulder pulled him back, dragged him back bodily and suddenly everything came back into terrible focus. Jim blinked, took a breath and looked up, practiced now at appearing as though everything was normal. 

Like it would ever be normal again. 

This wasn't happening. It just wasn't. He couldn't have lost Blair, he just couldn't. 

But he had. 

Simon was looking at him, straightening up, face mostly impassive but there were things in his gaze, things Jim chose to ignore. For long seconds, the Captain said nothing. Then he nodded, "Let's take this into my office." 

Jim kept to his seat, not wanting to move, but knowing he had no choice. A quick glance around the bull pen caught three people staring at him and another two trying not to. He lifted his chin, got to his feet and followed Simon, closing the door behind him. 

He tried for innocence, hoping it might work once more. "What is it, Captain?" 

Simon busied himself at the coffee machine, keeping his back to Jim. "What time is it, Detective?" 

"About three-thirty, sir." 

"What time did you get in this morning?" 

"Um . . . early . . . I don't know . . ." 

"Try 4.15 - or at least, that's what the night watch tells me." 

"4.15 it was, sir." Jim had no idea where this was going, but the mild puzzle to it made a rather nice distraction from the shit that had been floating in his head all day, all night, the same shit he was never likely to get rid of so yeah, this wasn't so bad, playing verbal tag with Simon. 

"So you've been here eleven hours, give or take." 

"Uh, yes sir." 

"Plan on going home any time soon?" 

"Eventually." 

Simon finished making his coffee and turned for his desk, sinking into his chair. "What time?" 

"When I've finished, I suppose. Why?" 

"Well, it's just that you've . . . I don't know . . . flaked out on average, once every twenty minutes or so and I just wanted to set my watch, ready for the next one." 

"Flaked out?" One more try at innocence, just in case. 

"Sit down, Jim." The tone, the look Simon gave him brooked no discussion. Jim sat, leaving his hands on the arm rests, where the other man could see them. "Are you going to tell me what's going on or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" 

"Simon . . ." 

"And if you tell me nothing's going on, I will put you on suspension so quick you'll think you were the Golden Gate Bridge." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Well?" 

Well? Well what? Well, how about we go out and catch some bad guys, make us feel like we haven't wasted our lives, make us feel like we exist. 

"Jim, I want you to go and see the department doctor." 

"What for?" Jim really couldn't get into this discussion. Hadn't really been able to get into anything today, despite the hours he'd spent here, trying to work. But he'd been unable to sleep, unable to sit at home because _she_ was there and he was so afraid he was going to do something terrible and he couldn't sit at home and think about Blair while she was around so he'd come in here and that's all he really wanted to do but people kept interrupting him. People like Simon. 

Blair's tears were burned into his memory. 

"I'm taking your current cases off you, Jim," Simon continued, ruthless. "I can't trust you out on the street - and I won't risk it until I know why it is you keep blanking out like that. You've got plenty of paper work to catch up on and in the meantime, you can man the phones." 

"Yes, sir." No, he couldn't get into this conversation at all. He knew he should be feeling angry or even just a little irritated but none of this seemed to matter any more. 

He'd distanced himself so much this time that he'd lost track of why he was here in the first place. And he just couldn't care that it had happened. 

"Go home, Jim. I'll make an appointment for you for the doctor tomorrow but in the meantime, go home and get some sleep." 

Feeling something of a dismissal in those words, Jim rose, gave Simon a nod and headed back to his desk. He stared down at it for a moment, then collected his jacket and walked towards the lift. 

It was safe to go home now. She wasn't there. She was at work, here. He couldn't harm her. Maybe he would get some sleep. 

No. Sleep would give his senses free reign and if he was asleep, he wouldn't remember Blair, wouldn't remember what he'd done. 

* * *

He knew he was doing it, but for the moment, he couldn't help himself. He knew he was avoiding the bedroom now just as he'd clung to it that morning. But now Elise had gone, he'd emailed his article to the Geographic and now, although it was getting dark and eventually he would have to go to sleep, he couldn't bring himself to go into that bedroom. 

It was as if the memories would be shattered if he went in there alone. 

He made some more coffee, picked a corner of the couch and settled in, turning on the tv, flipping to some channel where there was a program on birds. This he could look at without having to pay attention, without having to breathe too deeply. 

Because he couldn't. His lungs simply refused to expand sufficiently. 

And every hour or so, he found himself faced with the choice of either hitting something, or enduring more tears. He favoured neither. 

At no time however, did his worry for Jim let up. Instead, it ate away inside him, as though he'd dined on battery acid. 

When they'd met, he'd seen and felt Jim's need of him physically. Now however, deep down, he knew that need had grown and blossomed but he neither understood it nor knew what he could do about it. 

Apart from worry. Yeah, he knew how to do that just fine. 

So he did. 

* * *

It was so nice inside this dream. So warm and comfortable. He could live here. 

Yeah. This was where Blair was. 

Soft curls, bright eyes, love shining in them, real love, where he felt solid and substantial and worthy and so good, yes, so good. 

And Blair touched him in this dream. Reached out and caressed his soul, calming him, bringing him down, cradling him. Nothing was bad here. Everything just felt so good. 

He'd promised. Promised he wouldn't go to Blair unless he was sure of his love, until the confused died away and he was sure that he loved Blair and god, yes he was so sure. Never felt this way about anyone. Ever. He'd kept his promise. 

His skin tingled with Blair's touch. 

He drew in the wonderful scent. 

He savoured the taste of him. 

He swam to the sounds of that rich voice. 

His eyes burned with that last memory, that final vision, so small, so hurt, so vulnerable, so new to this, so many tears. 

His skin burned. 

His lungs burned. 

His mouth burned. 

His ears pounded, again and again, clanging, clanging louder and louder, scorching skin from his bones, ripping his throat out, thrusting a hot iron against his eyes, clawing him from the inside, the inside, the inside ... 

Oh GOD! 

God, I'm falling I know I am I know I am and nobody can catch me I knew this would happen I knew because I did it all wrong, so wrong, everything wrong, should have tried harder, shouldn't have let it happen should never have promised, never broken the promise and now it's making me pay and god, I deserve to pay, I hurt them both, I did, I hurt them both because I was so scared, so scared and I can't stop this now, can't stop it the pain is everywhere, surrounding me suffocating me can't breathe can't breathe somebody 

HELP ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

* * *

There were only two classes in this building after six pm - and both of them appeared to be hosting flocks of wild geese. 

Blair did his best to ignore them as he made his way along the corridor. He could have counted this as chickening out, as avoiding facing his bedroom - but he did actually have something that needed to be done, something he perhaps should have done a long time ago, if he'd had the courage. 

Turning the corner made the noise drop a little and he aimed for his office door, pulling out the key before he got there. For a moment, he simply stood, staring at his hand, at the key, at what he was about to do - but then he stuck the key in, opened the door and dumped his pack on his desk. 

Without pausing now, he pulled open his file drawers, taking out whole bundles of files and dumping them into an empty cardboard box. He wouldn't get rid of them completely. Why should he? Some poor schmuck might come along one day and decide to write something about sentinels and these would be here, in the basement storage, ready and waiting. 

But they weren't going to be here, where Blair could look at them and experience more regret than he'd thought possible. 

Once the drawers were finished, he pulled the current files from his desk and shoved them into his pack. He had letters to write to those people, thanking them for their input, explaining that his study was now over and that he was no longer on the lookout for a full sentinel. They fit into his pack nicely beside the leather-bound copy of Burton's monograph. When he finished here, he planned on taking it down to Professor Peters' office and giving it to him - as he explained his reasons behind changing his dissertation topic. 

Peters wouldn't be able to understand why Blair couldn't go back to Cascade PD, but there was no helping that. 

And then he was finished. Almost all trace of the sentinel project was gone from his office, hidden away in boxes he would take downstairs tomorrow. All he had to do was get rid of the monograph and then he'd be free. 

Free to choose. 

He picked up his pack, slung it over his shoulder, turned off the light and stepped outside, keys ready to lock up again. The squawking geese down the hall had picked up the pace a little so for a moment, he thought he was hearing things when the phone rang. 

Frowning, he ducked back inside and picked it up. 

"Hello?" 

"Sandburg? Blair Sandburg?" 

"That's right. Who is this?" The voice sounded familiar but it was so full of barely contained fury he couldn't put a name or a face to it. 

"Who the hell do you think this is?" 

"Well, I . . ." 

" _What did you do to him?_ " 

"Do?" Blair scrambled, frantic, an enormous sense of foreboding soak into him from his feet up. "Who is this?" 

"I'm his goddam wife and I want to know what you did to him! Did you put him on some drug so he'd sleep with you? Well, did you?" 

"Carolyn, calm down, what's wrong with him?" 

"Calm down? He's lying there like a . . . like a . . ." Disgust rang clear in her voice as though Jim was some creature malformed and grotesque. 

"Where is he?" 

"Here, at home, of course!" 

"You haven't taken him to a hospital?" 

"There's nothing wrong with him!" 

"For fuck's sake, Carolyn," Blair finally lost his temper. "Just stay there! I'm on my way." 

He hung up before she could say a word because he already had a damned good idea exactly what that word would be. 

* * *

An inferno, boiling his blood, blistering his skin, tearing him to shreds. Air too thick to breathe, choking him, filling his lungs, sticky, oozing blackness salted with icicles of acid. 

Wrong, wrong, did everything wrong. Retribution, justice, that's what this is. All that I deserve. 

A tornado, tossing him into a gale, stinging him with poison, roasting him alive. 

All that I deserve. 

* * *

Blair didn't wait for Carolyn to open the door completely. He just pushed his way past her and into a room with a high ceiling and lights on, something, probably a window to his left but what drew his gaze, drew him in until he stopped completely, was the figure on the couch. 

Jim wore something that would have been a pale grey, sweats, loose and comfortable, bare feet and nothing else. But the grey was dark and drenched with perspiration; Blair could smell it in the air. 

Jim seemed immobile, frozen where he lay but then he shuddered, a great wracking tremor, an earthquake small and contained within his tortured body. 

Blair dropped his backpack and took a step closer - but Carolyn was there, barring his way. 

"Who the hell do you think you are, storming in here like this! If you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police." 

"Fine, go ahead. While you're dialing, I'll be trying to help your husband!" Blair took her arm, pushed her out of his way and moved forward, falling to his knees beside the couch. 

Jim's eyes were squeezed shut against some horror Blair could only imagine. With a single touch, he discovered the couch cushions damp beneath him, soaking up the sweat pouring off the body. 

He'd have to be dehydrated for a start. 

The skin, smeared with moisture, was pale, almost deathly. The mouth was almost wired shut, breath going in and out through nostrils flaring with discomfort. 

Steeling himself, Blair reached out and lifted a sleeve to see the flesh beneath. Red welts scored the once smooth body and he dropped it as though stung. 

His voice came out harsh and hard, but it needed to. "How long has he been like this?" 

"How should I know? He left work early. I got home ten minutes before I called you. He was like this when I walked in. I thought he was just asleep and I went into my room to change - and then he started calling out. I thought he was just having a nightmare - he has them all the time . . ." 

"All the time?" Blair didn't bother looking at her. 

"So I came in here and he was shivering, jerking like that, like he was on some drug and he just kept saying your name. I promise you, if you've doped him up on something to make a point, I'll run you in so fast . . ." 

"Oh, shut up, will you, I'm trying to think!" 

Carolyn began to bluster then, but he just switched off, concentrating on Jim. Laboured breathing, shivers, sweating, rashes. Looked like a massive allergic reaction to something - but if he'd been like this for hours, and it was an allergy, surely anaphylactic shock would have set in by now and Jim would be dead. 

No, he was no doctor. He had to get Jim to a hospital, now, before it got worse. They'd know what to do, get some fluids into him IV, something, anything to make this better. 

God, why hadn't he listened to the things Jim hadn't said? Why hadn't he pressed for answers, insisted on knowing? 

He made to get up, glancing around for a phone. Had to call 911, get him into an ambulance . . . 

He turned to Carolyn, took in her pinched face, her slightly wild expression, her obvious hatred for him - and ignored all of it. His voice flat now, he asked, "Has he ever been like this before?" 

"Like this? No." 

"Well, what about his nightmares? He ever say what they're about?" 

"He says they're not about anything. He just hears stuff too loudly or . . . or the lights are too bright in the middle of the night. It's nothing, just stress, that's all. I tried to get him to go to a doctor but he said he'd done that already and they said there was nothing wrong with him. But I don't see how that can be the same as this. Look, if you've quite finished, I think you should just leave. I don't want you here and my husband has vowed he won't have anything more to do with you . . ." 

She continued but Blair wasn't listening any more. Instead, he turned a wide-eyed gaze on the man before him. 

No. 

It had to be some kind of . . . 

Oh, dear god, no. 

Jim must think he's going insane . . . 

It can't be . . . 

But Blair didn't stand there wondering. He just took off for the kitchen, grabbing a t-towel, sticking it under the cold tap, picking a glass up, filling it with water. On his way back, he turned off the lights. 

"What are you doing?" 

"If you have to say something," Blair urged, as softly as he could, "whisper, no more. Can you get me some clothes for him? Something cotton and old, something that's been washed a lot, something soft." 

"Can I . . .?" 

"Please, Carolyn, I don't think we have much time. You can kick me out later. I promise, I'll go as soon as he's better, okay?" 

"Do you know what you're doing?" 

"Yes." He said this with as much certainty as he could muster, though nowhere near as much as he needed for himself. 

She said nothing else, leaving him to kneel beside Jim. He slowly and carefully reached out and placed the damp cloth over Jim's eyes, feeling the forehead burning up beneath his fingers. 

"Has he been worse lately, or better?" 

"Lately? The last few weeks I think he was only bad one night. Before that, it was almost . . ." Her voice trailed off as she realized what she'd just said. 

Blair didn't need to press for the rest of the answer. He already knew what it was, what it meant - and, thank god, what he could do about it. 

At least for the moment. At least enough to bring Jim back from the hell he'd driven himself to. 

Carolyn disappeared then and Blair continued his ministrations. Carefully, disturbing as little as he could, he lifted Jim's top up, sliding the damp cloth away from his skin. Jim was pretty heavy but Blair managed until his chest was revealed. 

Even in the dim light, the welts were visible, appearing like whip marks across the muscled chest. Blair had to bite his lip to stop himself cursing. Moving along, he eased Jim's sweats down, over his hips and off completely. 

"What are you doing?" Carolyn at least had the sense to hiss this rather than shout. 

"Have you got anything like Chamomile lotion? Something without any chemicals in it? And I need a basin with water and a soft cloth. The water needs to be cool but not cold. Just the edge taken off. And a towel, again, old and worn. Now?" 

If the circumstances had been any different, he would have got immense satisfaction in ordering her around - but right now, he was just scared, terrified that he wouldn't be able to fix this, would never be able to bring Jim back and if he didn't it would be his fault, only his fault because he hadn't seen the signs, hadn't been looking, hadn't been paying attention as he should have. 

This was his business, his vocation - and he'd missed it all. And now Jim was paying for his oversight. 

Carolyn reappeared with the things he'd asked for. He let her set them down on the floor then reached under Jim and put the glass of water to his lips. 

Nothing. Jim's mouth was clenched shut - but he was still shivering, sweating and making himself more sick as each moment went by. 

Blair glanced up at Carolyn. "Can you stay quiet for a little while?" 

She didn't dignify that with a response. He couldn't have cared less. He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a low hum, not whispering, but keeping it quiet and recognizable. 

"Jim? It's Blair. I know you probably can't hear me, or understand what I'm saying but I just want you to know I'm here. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. It's safe to come back. I promise you, it's safe." 

He paused, dipped his finger into the water and brought it up to Jim's mouth. "Take a little water, Jim, just a little. I know it will probably taste disgusting, but just take a drop for me, please? Just a little?" 

The mouth didn't move - but for a moment, the breathing hitched a little, pausing before returning to the hideous rasp. 

Scent. God, he had smell as well? 

Shit, he really was in hell. 

Blair didn't pause this time. He reached up and wiped his hand around the back of his own neck then brought it back to Jim, placing it before his face, allowing him to draw the scent in. 

"Come on, Jim, recognize me. It's Blair. You know I'm here. You can smell me. It's not your imagination. You're not going crazy. I can explain everything. You just need to come back so I can tell you." 

This time the nostrils twitched more than once - then abruptly, Jim took in a single, huge breath. As he let it out, some of the shivering subsided. 

Shit, it was working. 

All that research . . . 

He tried the water again, dipping his finger in, placing it against Jim's mouth. For long seconds, the jaw remained clenched - then the lips parted a little. Blair got water into him, one agonizing drop at a time but he couldn't get the teeth apart to bring the glass up. 

Satisfied for the moment, he took up the washcloth and began bathing Jim, easing the cloth over muscles still twitching. All the while, he kept up the same litany of reassurance, keeping his voice low, keeping his scent near, anything that would help Jim recognize him, let him know that it was safe. 

Carolyn watched from the side, not saying a word. 

He didn't bother replacing the clothes for the moment. There was no point if Jim didn't come out of it soon. More cloth would only irritate his skin again. For dignity's sake however, he laid the damp towel over Jim's groin. 

"Come on, Jim," he urged again. "A little more water, okay? Just a little. Need to replace those electrolytes you've been sweating out. You go to the gym, man, you know I'm telling the truth. Essential stuff, Jim. That's it, just a little more." 

With each drop, Jim's breathing eased, almost infinitesimally. With each drop, Blair pressed a little harder against the teeth until, finally, they opened a little, then a little more until Blair could reach in far enough to find his goal. He bathed his finger in his own mouth first, then placed it against Jim's tongue. He did it again. And again. Would have done it a fourth time except that - 

"Blair?" 

Blair stumbled back in surprise. 

"Okay, you can go now," Carolyn hissed. 

"Be quiet!" Blair knelt close to Jim again, his voice low as before. "Jim? Can you hear me?" 

"Blair." Jim rasped in a breath, "Blair, please . . ." 

Jim couldn't hear him. Something wild had gone wrong with his hearing so Blair kept to the path he'd been travelling. He picked up the lotion Carolyn had brought back, quickly checked the label for chemicals, then warmed some between his hands. Gently, he smoothed it over Jim's chest, still talking, repeating himself over and over. The improvement was so tiny, so stilted, his fear began to rise again. 

There was nothing for it. Taste and smell seemed to be the only senses processing any input. 

He rose and left Jim only long enough to wash the lotion from his hands. Carolyn stood by and watched everything he did, tolerating him just barely. Again he ignored her. 

Back with Jim and he picked up the glass again, dipping his finger in the water, leaving drops in Jim's mouth. But it was taking too long. Jim had swallowed maybe a teaspoon so far and the sweating hadn't abated at all. 

Once more, he covered his finger with his own saliva then placed it against Jim's mouth. Again, there was a shimmer of recognition. 

There was only one way out of this. 

Knowing Carolyn was watching everything he did, he rose up a little, placing his hands on either side of Jim's face. "Jim, you can hear me. I know you can. You just need to come back, okay? Please? I need to know you're okay. I need to talk to you, to explain what's happening to you. Everything's going to be fine." Jim stilled under his touch, but said nothing, his breathing getting worse. Steadying himself, Blair leaned forward a little more, dipped his head and pressed his lips against Jim's. 

He felt rather than heard the gasp from Carolyn. She began to say something, her voice rising, but Blair continued the kiss, forcing Jim to taste him, getting his message across, forming the connection on a basic level. 

Carolyn's hand grabbed his shoulder, would have torn him away - but abruptly, Jim gasped. The mouth instantly opened to Blair, Jim taking control of the kiss, drinking Blair in, exploring desperately. Before he could even move, however, Carolyn's insistence won out and she dragged him back. 

"Blair?" 

"I'm right here, Jim." 

"Get out!" Carolyn's patience had clearly vanished - what little there'd been of it to start with. "Get out of my house, you disgusting . . . filthy . . ." 

"Blair? Carolyn?" 

Blair ignored her, wresting himself from her grasp. "It's okay, Jim. Just relax. Keep breathing, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Carolyn let him go then and Blair let out a shudder of his own, as relief flood through him, chasing the subdued terror away. He laid a careful hand on the man's forehead. It was still hot, but the skin was drying, the shivers had stopped. 

"Can you hear me?" 

"Yeah. You . . . sound funny, though." 

"That's because there's something wrong with your hearing. Don't worry about it right now. We'll fix it soon enough." 

"I . . . don't feel so good." 

"I know. Look, you just keep breathing. Concentrate on that, on keeping it strong and even, okay?" 

"Come closer." 

Sparing a glance for Carolyn, he moved closer until Jim's hand reached out, catching his, bringing it to his lips. He tugged again and Blair gave in, kissing him gently, feeling him respond in a way that unbound all the tightness in his chest. 

"I'm not going to stand here and watch you . . ." 

"What?" Blair turned. "He's getting better. Isn't that good enough for you? Just give me a little longer . . ." 

"So you can seduce him again? While I'm standing here?" 

"Then go. The longer you stick around, interrupting me and what I'm trying to do, the longer it will take him to get better." 

"You'll pay for this!" With that, Carolyn turned, grabbed her purse and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. 

Blair flinched at the noise, but Jim hardly heard it. For a moment, he just watched the man then, knowing it was too late to worry about it, he stripped off his own shirt, shoes and climbed onto the couch, snuggling up beside Jim, feeling the big man's arms instantly go around him. 

"It's dark in here," Jim murmured after a moment. 

"You've got a cloth over your eyes. Do they still hurt?" 

"No, not really. Can I take it off? I'd like to see you." 

"Sure." Blair twisted around as Jim removed the cloth, watching as the man slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times. They didn't look great, but they seemed to be working, if Jim's abrupt smile was anything to go by. 

Blair could afford one himself. "Hey." 

"Hey." 

Jim took over then, pulling Blair up to kiss him again. This time, there was no desperation, no danger, just a beautiful, long, deep kiss, filling a lifetime. When it was over, Blair settled back against Jim, noticing from close up, how the welts were already dissipating. 

He could have wept. 

"Hey, how come I'm at the loft . . ." Jim's confusion made his whole body go rigid. "Where's Carolyn? Blair . . ." 

"Relax, Jim. It's okay. She knows I'm here. What's the last thing you remember?" 

"I . . . Oh, god, don't tell me I've done it again." 

Carefully, Blair said, "Done what again?" 

But Jim didn't answer, leaving Blair to make a decision that would influence the rest of his life. He didn't hesitate. 

"Jim, I have a monograph, written by an anthropologist last century. His name was Sir Richard Burton - not the actor. In this monograph, he mentions . . ." 

"Chief, I'm sure this is really interesting but . . ." 

"Please, Jim, just hear me out. Burton talks about these people who lived in tribal cultures, a kind of watchman who would patrol the borders, look out for game, warn of approaching attack from neighboring tribes. They did this with what Burton described as a heightened sensory awareness \- which means their senses were developed way and beyond those of normal people. He called these people sentinels." 

There was a long silence then, which Blair made no effort to fill. Finally, when Jim didn't react at all, Blair lifted himself up until he could see Jim's face, to find Jim studying the ceiling beams with great intensity. "You must have thought you were going crazy. All these things you could hear and smell and see. But it's totally normal. Well, okay, maybe not totally 'cause I don't know of any other sentinels anywhere in the country and man, trust me, I've been looking. But it's a natural thing, Jim. You maybe a genetic throwback - but there's nothing _wrong_ with you. That's why the doctors came up with a blank. Your senses have just been going wild and I can . . . I can help with that, help you get control of them, help you learn how to use them." 

"Use them?" Jim frowned, as though he hadn't taken this in just yet but was going along for the ride. 

"Sure, man," Blair could no longer contain his excitement. "You're a walking crime lab. You can see and hear and smell and taste things nobody else can. But you need to learn how to do that, how to control them and you need to be careful of the zone-out factor." 

"Zone-out?" Jim whispered this, making Blair frown a little. 

"Yeah. It's when a sentinel concentrates too much on one or two senses, taking all the others off line. You lose contact with everything else. Burton says every sentinel had a . . . a guide to help them, somebody who could, you know, watch the sentinel's back, help him avoid zone-outs, keep him focussed. Stuff like that," Blair finished lamely. 

"And you think . . . you think I'm one of these sentinels?" 

"Yeah." 

"I'm not going crazy?" 

"No." 

Jim blinked, pulled him a little closer and said, "How do you know all this?" 

"Man, I've been studying sentinels nearly my whole life. I promise you, nobody knows more about this than I do. I'm the best person to help you with this. Jim, this is like, Holy Grail time for me. You're my . . ." 

He pulled up short, the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't say it. He couldn't lie there and tell this man - couldn't tell _Jim_ \- that he wanted to study him, wanted to write his dissertation about him. 

This was it. 

This right here. 

This was where the line crossed between theory and reality. 

Blair moved. Carefully, he sat up, getting off the couch to kneel back on the floor. He handed Jim the glass of water and watched the man drink it all. He rose to get another, watched him drink that one as well, then helped him sit up and put some clothes on. 

He couldn't do it. It wouldn't work anyway. Carolyn had forbidden Jim to see Blair again and there was no way she would let them work together, even if she understood and believed the whole sentinel thing. 

Which would leave Jim without a guide, without help - and without that help, things would just keep getting worse until - 

"I guess that makes you my guide," Jim's voice sounded a little rough, but much more confident than before. Blair looked up to find the man sitting in front of him, a wry smile on his face. 

Better to do this now than wait. "Jim, I can't be your guide." 

"Why not?" 

"Because of Carolyn." 

Jim's face fell. "But you helped me. Not just tonight - but before." He reached out and grabbed Blair's hand. "You don't know . . . When you were at the station and before, when we made love it was . . . you helped. I don't know how - but you did." 

"Jim, I want to help, honest I do . . . but . . ." There were no more words left in him. He pulled back a little, "Listen, if you're feeling okay now, I'd better go, before she comes back." 

"Back?" Jim frowned again, "She was here?" 

"Yeah, she left when I kissed you. Guess she was disgusted, eh?" Blair tried to get to his feet, but Jim wouldn't let go his hand. 

"In that case, she won't be seeing anything new if she walks in on us now." Jim pulled him close then, holding him, kissing him, just being close - but Blair couldn't do this any more. 

His theoretical world had collided with the real world and the impact was slowly shattering him. "Jim, I have to go. She's mad, you know? Really mad at me and I don't want to make things worse for you. Please, let me go." 

"Okay." Once again, Jim's confusion seeped out into his voice. Blair got to his feet, pulled his shirt on, tucking it into his jeans, looking around for a jacket he didn't remember discarding. He found it, picked up his pack and turned back to Jim. 

The bigger man climbed slowly to his feet, more colour in his face, more determination in his eyes. "I don't want you to go." 

"I know, Jim! I know!" Blair broke then, too much tumbling around inside him to hold onto any of it. "God, do you think I want to leave you like this? You need my help and I'm so scared of what will happen if you don't get it - but she . . . she . . ." 

"It's okay, shhh, it's okay." And Jim was there, enfolding him in strong arms, speaking aloud of love without saying a word. "I understand." 

"Okay." Blair said into Jim's shoulder. 

"How will you get home?" 

"I drove here." 

"How long was I out of it?" 

"Don't know. Several hours at least." 

"Simon thinks there's something wrong with me. He's put me on sick leave." 

"Take the time, Jim. Go away for a few days, away from Carolyn and the city and everything. Take some time out. Do some . . . some breathing exercises and . . ." 

"I love you." 

The gentle whisper almost broke him in two. "I love you too, Jim, but I have to go. I have to go now." 

And Blair fled, leaving those arms, that life, leaving all his passions behind. 

* * *

The shower felt so good it could have been listed as a legitimate sin. For the first couple of minutes, he left the water on tepid, gradually increasing the temperature until it could warm him right through. The soap he used sparingly, not wanting to push things so soon. But the water itself was wonderful, a caress so gentle it might have been Blair's hands. 

He got out, dried off and pulled on clean clothes, shirt, jeans, sweater. He was combing his hair when his stomach gave a loud grumble. Giving himself a wry smile in the mirror, he made for the kitchen. He had some leftovers in the fridge somewhere. He pulled them out, stuck them on a plate and into the microwave. He was just polishing off the last morsels when he heard her return, the lift grinding to a halt, her usual fumble for keys. 

He could hear it all so clearly. He could hear it and not stumble away from it in fear. 

He busied himself making a pot of coffee as she came in, not wanting to be standing there as if he was waiting for her - even if he was. She came to a halt behind him and he turned, holding a cup out to her. 

"He's gone?" She demanded, without preamble. 

"Yes, Blair went home an hour ago. And I'm feeling much better now, thanks." 

She ignored the coffee, her eyes flashing at his glib comment. "Oh, and I'm supposed to be grateful I had to stand there and watch the two of you . . . good god, you disgust me!" 

Jim put her cup down and took a sip of his own. "I'm sorry you feel that way." And he was, very sorry, because once, he'd made a promise in the hope that they'd remain friends. He'd _wanted_ to be friends with her because he'd genuinely liked her and some small part of him still did. "We need to talk." 

"Well, I don't want to talk. I'm sick of this whole thing. You have no idea how rude he was to me. Nobody speaks to me like that in my own home. Tomorrow, I'm going to . . ." 

"No, you're not." 

"You can't stop me." 

Jim shook his head, "I'm not going to threaten you, Carolyn, so please, will you sit down so we can talk?" 

"I'm not really interested in anything you have to say." 

"Well, I _am_ interested in what you have to say. Come on." He took her arm and gently but insistently, directed her to the couch, making her sit. He perched on the coffee table in front of her, his mug in his hands as though it was a crucible, burning away irrelevancy. "Why won't you let me go?" 

"Oh, great, so now you're going to try talking me into letting you go off with your long haired whore . . ." 

"Carolyn," Jim allowed a drop of menace to emerge in his tone, "if you call him that once more, I swear you will be out of here so fast, you won't even feel the wind in your ears. His name is Blair." He paused a moment to let that sink in, then continued, "This isn't about me and Blair, it's about you." 

"Me? What are you talking about now?" 

"Why you won't let me go. I was asking you for a divorce a year before I even met Blair. You know he has nothing to do with it. So just explain it to me, make me understand?" 

He kept his tone level, trying to impress upon her that he wouldn't allow this to degenerate into another shouting match - and something of his determination seemed to get through to her. She lifted her chin, folded her hands in her lap and looked away. 

"I don't see why we can't just stay together. There's nothing really wrong between us, is there? I mean, we get along just fine - or at least, we did until that . . . Blair ruined everything." 

"You think we were fine?" Jim asked softly. "Really?" 

She didn't answer so he pushed a little. "I want a divorce, Carolyn." 

"And if you try, I'll carry out my threat. You'll be ruined and it will all have been for nothing." 

"If you're determined to go through with it, then so be it." 

Her gaze whipped back to him, her eyes wide. "You're just trying to call my bluff!" 

"No." Jim shook his head, letting her see how sure he was about this. And he was sure - for perhaps the first time. "You can ruin me if you like - but it won't have been for nothing. I'll have my life back. Carolyn, you said I disgust you, that what Blair and I have . . ." 

"God, you talk about it as though it's something normal, natural!" 

"I can't change the way you feel about it, so I'm not going to try. But you need to understand - I'm in love with him and he's in love with me. Nothing you say or do is going to change that. We could stay married, go on pretending to the end of our days that we have any kind of relationship but ultimately, I'll still be what I am now and I'll still be in love with Blair. And for all that time, you'll be living in fear, like you are now, that I'll walk out, or I'll be seeing him behind your back or that somebody will find out that your husband is slept with a man. Really, Carolyn, is it worth it?" 

She sucked in a breath, held it and let it out nosily, "You promised." 

"And you used that promise to chain me to you - which was not why I gave it. I gave it because I still cared for you, because I didn't want you to do anything you weren't ready for. I wanted us to remain friends because I've seen far too many couples become lasting enemies. But things have changed." 

"You've started sleeping with men, for a start." 

Jim let out a soft sigh, his voice emerging gentle and worn, "I've been sleeping with men since I was nineteen years old." 

"You what?" Her face paled with genuine shock and he nodded. 

"I would have told you about it, but when we got married, I put it all behind me." 

"I . . . I . . ." She frowned, genuinely failing to understand. "But if you wanted men, why did you marry me?" 

"Because I was in love with you, of course." He left the coffee table then, taking a seat beside her. "I swear, I was never unfaithful to you while we were married. I never touched anybody until I met Blair a few weeks ago. I meant those wedding vows - but like I said, this isn't about me or Blair or what I want. It's about what you want." 

"Oh?" Skepticism arched her eyebrows. 

"For all that you kept me chained the last year, you're even more tied down, caught in a place you don't want to be in. And you don't want to be doing this, do you?" 

Her gaze widened then, all traces of anger, of indignation vanishing as her face paled. 

"Carolyn, you're so scared of what your family will say because you want to be the perfect daughter. You're hiding from a reality that's biting you back. So you're not perfect, does it really matter?" 

"I . . . I . . ." She looked away, her hands left to twist together. "You don't understand." 

"I do, Caro." His voice dropped, "That's why I won't have anything to do with my father - because he could never accept the person I was. But I got my freedom from him, I became the man I am now and I'd rather be this than a slave to his judgement." 

"But I . . ." 

"For the last year, I've tried to hide and deny something that's been happening to me because I was afraid. The result was what you saw tonight. But now I know what's wrong, I can fix it. I can take back control of my life and you know, it feels so good to be able to say that. Wouldn't you like to do the same thing? You've been clinging to me like I was a life-raft, clinging to the life we used to have because a new one is too terrifying. But it doesn't have to be." 

She shrugged and he reached out, taking her hand in his. "Look at me." Her eyes lifted. "I'm in love with a man, Carolyn. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, if he'll let me. Am I really what you want? Is this the life you really want? Sleeping in a cold bed on your own, never having the children you think about, always having to cajole me into being there to continue the pretense, coming home to an icy conversation with a man who would rather be elsewhere - as you would?" 

She shook her head a little, then shrugged. 

"You want more than that - and so do I. Isn't that why we got married in the first place? Because we thought we could share all that with each other?" 

A small nod. 

"Then set yourself free. Make the life _you_ want rather than put up with the one you got landed with. You don't want me ruining everything for you, do you?" 

She said nothing then, but instead, levered herself off the couch. He watched as she paced towards the window, twisting her hands together. For a long time, she was silent, her footsteps the only sound in the darkened loft. Jim left her alone with her thoughts, prepared to hope that the shock of what she'd seen, of what had happened would finally get through to her. 

Eventually, she returned, sinking back onto the couch. "Daddy's always pushed me and I was taught . . . not to push him back. But I guess, that doesn't make him right, does it?" 

"No. You have to be right sometimes, too." 

"I just . . . couldn't see where to go next. Where _I_ was supposed to be next. I can't . . . condone what you and Blair . . . That's just too . . . But I guess I can't keep doing this, can I? I suppose I knew I'd have to make that next step sooner or later. Just thought I'd be a little better prepared for it." She looked up then, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It won't be easy, will it?" 

Jim slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, "No. But I'll help, if you let me. I still want us to be friends. We used to be good friends." 

"Yes, we did," she nodded, her voice a little shaky. "Just don't expect me to be around . . ." 

"This has nothing to do with Blair." 

She nodded again, "I think I'd like that coffee now." 

Jim left her alone for a few minutes, taking his time in the kitchen so she could gather her thoughts. Eventually, she lifted her head and he took a fresh cup back with him. She looked up with a faint smile, one of the first real ones he'd seen in way too long. 

"I guess I'll have to find myself a place to live. I might do that . . . before I tell my parents, if that's okay with you." 

"Fine." 

"Just so, if there's any shouting going on, they can do it at my place rather than yours." 

Jim nodded, smiling in reply. "If you want me to come with you. . ." 

"No. You're right. It's _my_ life. If I do it wrong, they can sue me." 

"You'd better get a cheap apartment, in that case." 

* * *

Blair stretched his legs out on the park bench, allowing as much sun to warm his bones as possible. He could hear Elise chuckling beside him but that didn't stop him leaning his head back and closing his eyes like the sun worshipper he dreamed of becoming. 

"Want me to get out the tanning oil?" 

He grinned but didn't move. "I wait eleven months every year for this. I have four solid weeks when it rains mostly in the evenings and I don't feel like I'm freezing to death. You can't possibly ruin this for me." 

"Oh, I wouldn't want to - after all, I'm usually the one who has to put up with you moaning those eleven months." 

"Come on, I'm not that bad." Blair opened one eye and looked at her. "Am I?" 

Elise sat back and folded her arms, "Cold and wet is my world - was one of your more notable comments." 

"Do you know there are some places in the world where the only difference between summer and winter is that in summer it doesn't rain at all?" Blair relaxed again and sighed. "I want to live in one of those places. I want to get so sick of the heat that I'm missing my favourite sweater. I wanna get bored with the heat. I wanna go running outside when it rains because it's a little variety in the unending sea of warmth." 

"Hedonist." 

Blair chuckled and sat up a little, opening his eyes again. "So where did you decide to go for your summer break?" 

"Texas." 

"Texas?" Blair blinked. "Isn't that where Michael moved to?" 

"Yeah," Elise shrugged. "He says he wants to give it another go - but I'm not so sure. I've said I'll go visit for a couple of weeks and see how I feel." 

"Well, it's certainly worth making the effort, just in case it does turn out to be worthwhile." 

Elise grinned, "There speaks the man who, only five weeks ago was moping about because his heart had been broken." 

Blair pulled in his bottom lip and lifted a shoulder, "Well . . ." 

"Hey, it's Thursday." Elise sat forward, her eyes suddenly bright with excitement. "Did you get another one today?" 

Unable to help himself, Blair grinned, fishing into his pocket. "Came the same time as always." 

"What was it this time? Roses again?" 

"Nah, some white flower I don't know the name of. Really nice though." Very nice. He'd put them in a vase in his office, planning to take them home with him. 

"Let me see the card." Blair handed it to her and she lifted it up to read, making something of it. "Just the same message as always 'I love you'. And you still haven't heard anything else? He hasn't called or anything?" 

"Nope," Blair took the card back and replaced it in his shirt pocket. He still wasn't sure how he should be feeling about all this. He'd had one message on his machine, five weeks ago, Jim assuring him that he was fine and to not worry. Since then, he'd heard nothing - and yet, every Thursday, like clockwork, a bunch of flowers would be delivered to him, the message on the card simple - but effective. 

And he loved them. Loved the flowers, loved the message, loved that Jim still loved him. 

"Well," Elise laced her fingers together, "why don't you call him?" 

"You know I can't do that. If his wife caught me . . ." 

"What if she's gone?" 

"Then I'll just have to wait until he tells me." Just wait. Well, he'd said he would, hadn't he? Before all that business with Jim's senses had blown up. Back then, Jim had said he would need time - and that's what Blair was prepared to give him. 

Still, that didn't make the waiting easier. It had already been five long weeks and he still missed Jim so badly, it was like a solid lump of rock sitting in the pit of his stomach. 

Never, never in his life would he claim to understand a single thing about love. It was totally illogical, wholly insane and utterly wonderful. Who would have thought a hastily arranged one night stand could land him here? 

Yep, totally illogical. 

"So what if he doesn't call?" 

"He will," Blair looked up, smiling at her with complete certainty. "I have no idea when, but he will." 

"Hence the flowers?" 

"Yep." 

"Okay. I guess that works - in a twisted kind of way." She giggled then, her gaze roaming out across the park. "God, I have so much work to do this weekend. Hey, _he's_ pretty cute. Perhaps I'll distract myself with him instead." 

"Who?" Blair turned to face the direction she was nodding in - and nearly fell off the seat. 

Tall, short cropped hair, powder blue shirt over strong shoulders, darker jeans, boots. Walking. Towards them. 

Blair's heart began thudding without any instruction from him. The lunch papers in his hands slipped from his grip but he couldn't bring himself to look away in case he'd been imagining it. Gradually, the vision came closer - and there was a smile there, as wide as the sun and then Blair hoped, hoped to god, or the gods or whoever if it would make a difference that this meant something good. 

"Blair? Are you okay?" He felt Elise's hand on his arm but he just shook his head a little, remaining mute until his legs brought him upright, until Jim came to a halt in front of him. 

Those pale eyes were gazing at him. 

Yeah. 

Was he grinning? 

"Blair?" 

"Hi," Jim murmured, eventually turning to Elise. He held out his hand, "Jim Ellison." 

"Oh," Elise swallowed. "Elise Patton. I'm . . . er . . . delighted to meet you. I hope." 

Blair moved when Elise elbowed him. "Come on, Blair, are you even going to talk to the man?" 

"I . . . How are you?" 

"Me?" Jim shrugged, giving that screwed up smile he gave when he was trying not to grin like an idiot. "I'm just fine, Chief. How are you?" 

"Better," Blair breathed. "Much better." 

Jim chuckled, glancing down at his shoes for a moment, suddenly shy and totally adorable. "You . . . um . . . got some time? Can we talk?" 

" _Talk?_ " Elise giggled - then stopped suddenly, picking up her bag and Blair's trash and making moves to leave them. "I'll see you later, Blair. Call me when . . . you know, when you . . . er . . . surface." 

"Chief?" Jim was frowning, obviously puzzled. 

"It's okay, Jim. Elise knows." 

"Knows what?" 

"When not to be a gooseberry." Elise gave them a final grin and skipped away. 

Jim was gazing at him again, the look softening and melting Blair where he stood. "You didn't tell her about the . . . um . . . sentinel stuff, did you?" 

"No, no, of course not. But she's been, er, really good to me, you know, when . . ." 

"Okay." Jim nodded and glanced around. "Can we walk?" 

"Sure." Blair's fingers itched to touch Jim - but he kept a polite distance between them for a few moments, which was diminished by Jim deliberately walking close enough for their shoulders and arms to touch as they moved. Each time the touch woke something inside Blair. Something he'd missed. Something really, really nice. For a long time, neither said a word and for that, Blair was glad. He was sure he was in shock and would only end up sounding like an idiot - so not the impression he wanted to give this man. 

When they reached the pond, Jim glanced at him once and said, "Carolyn's gone." 

Blair stopped in his tracks, waiting until Jim stood before him, waited until he could see what he needed to see in those eyes. "Uh, when?" 

"Three weeks ago. I helped her move into an apartment about a mile from the PD. It's a nice place." 

"But . . ." 

"The divorce is under way." 

"It is?" 

"Yeah." Jim's expression was unreadable so Blair couldn't really address any of that for the moment. So he resumed walking, allowing himself to simply enjoy Jim's close presence. 

"Listen, what you said, about that sentinel stuff?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You didn't tell me the whole truth, did you?" 

"Yes, I did. I promise you, Jim, I made nothing up. It's all documented. I can show you the . . ." 

"I know you can. That's what I mean." Jim put his hands behind his back as he walked. "I went to your office before I came out here and I met your advisor, Professor Peters. He told me you had lunch out here every day - so I followed you out. We started talking and he said you were having trouble finding a new research subject because you'd decided to change after eight months." 

"Oh." Damn Peters! Why did he have to say something? 

"Why?" 

Blair looked up to find Jim watching him. "Because I . . ." Was he allowed to say it now? Allowed to admit that being in love had changed the way he saw things? 

Jim just gave him a short nod. "On my way out to find you, I rang Simon. He said he'd be happy for you to come back as an observer, if you want to write your dissertation on . . . what was it? Closed societies?" 

"But," Blair could feel a panic attack coming on - or at least, something akin to it. "What about Carolyn?" 

"She's fine, Chief, I promise you. Just don't go trying to be friendly with her, that's all. She won't tell anybody about what happened. Besides, she's thinking of moving to San Francisco. A really good job's come up and she feels like striking out on her own." 

"Oh," Blair said again. There was too much here to process, too much going on for him to grasp all in one go. And where did that leave _them?_

"And if you come to work at the station, you can help me with the sentinel stuff. That's if you still want to be my guide." 

"If I want . . ." Blair stopped as his feet hit the pavement outside his building. All around him, students hurried to classes, gardeners tended the lawn, cars drove by. They might have been aliens for all the difference it made to him. "Jim, I promise you, I _want_ to be your guide." 

"Good." Jim nodded, that implacable expression still held on his face. "You're in this one, aren't you?" 

"That's right." 

"Have you got that monograph? The one you told me about?" 

"Oh, sure!" Galvanized by the promise of what he could do - _finally_ \- Blair turned and bounced up the stairs, slowing at the doorway. Once inside, Jim walked beside him, like a tourist, glancing this way and that. 

Blair took him straight up to his office, immediately pulling out the ancient tome which he'd never gotten around to giving to Peters. He opened it to a page at random, placing it down on the desk for Jim to see. 

The bigger man looked closely at the picture, turned a couple of pages then murmured, "We just need to have a few rules about this, Chief." 

"What?" Blair could hardly contain his excitement - nor his anticipation. If Carolyn was gone, would Jim want to . . . 

"Well, we can't tell anyone. I don't want my life turned upside down again, okay?" 

"Sure. And?" 

"And, is it . . . well, is it okay if the sentinel dates his guide?" 

Blair swallowed, hardly able to breathe. "I don't know. Is it?" 

Jim looked up, his eyes smiling. "I hope so - or I'll have to cancel the reservation I made for tonight at this really nice restaurant. Will you have dinner with me?" 

"Yes," Blair replied in a tiny voice, then laughed a little at himself. "Jeez, Jim, you don't half scare a man, do you?" 

"I just wasn't sure . . ." Jim shrugged, "And then I saw you sitting with that pretty girl." 

Blair would have protested then, but he didn't have time. Suddenly, Jim was too close, reaching out and pulling him even closer, strong arms enfolding him, bringing him back home. Blair wanted to laugh then, but it all dried up under the heat of Jim's gaze. 

"I've spent the last three weeks getting used to my own home again, moving furniture around, buying new stuff, painting and generally doing my best to remember who I used to be, before all of this happened." 

"How did you go?" Blair relaxed into Jim's arms, happy to be right where he was. 

"Pretty good, I think. There was only one problem." 

"What was that?" 

"You." 

"I'm a problem?" 

"A big one." 

"Why?" 

"Couldn't stop thinking about you, wanting you. It's been that way since the first moment I met you. Can't see it's going to stop any time soon. So I realized I don't want a new life unless you're a part of it." Jim's mouth lifted up at one corner. "Think you can live with the pressure, Professor?" 

Nodding slowly, Blair said, "I'll manage. I teach for a living, you know. Me and pressure are old friends." 

"That's the spirit." 

"Only, I have a few rules of my own." 

"Which are?" 

"I don't kiss on a first date." 

Jim was having trouble suppressing his smile now and Blair reveled in the affect he could have on this man. "But, Chief, we've already had our first date." 

"Yeah," Blair grinned, "I know." 

Jim started to laugh then but Blair stopped him, placing his hands on either side of that wonderful face, sobering with the sudden strength of what he was feeling. "I love you, Jim. The flowers were . . . I loved them. I love you so much." 

"God, I've missed you," Jim whispered. "It was just so hard not to come back and find you but I had to put all that behind me, close it up and finish it off. You were never meant to be a part of it but now . . . now it's all over and I want you, god, how I want you. Need you. Love you." 

And Jim kissed him, gently at first, then more deeply, as he tried to make up for the weeks they'd been apart. The warmth inside Jim's embrace soaked through to Blair's bones, lighting a small fire in his belly, awakening a need he'd spent five weeks ignoring. 

When finally Jim let him up to breathe, his face was flushed, his hands were clammy and he knew he couldn't dare walk out of his office without pulling his shirt down over the front of his jeans. 

"Um, Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can you let me go?" 

"No. I'm never letting you go." 

"Not even to close the door?" 

Jim shook his head, brought his lips close again, "Nope, Chief, not even to close the door." 

And if Blair had planned to voice a protest, it was lost utterly in a single, solitary kiss. 

~finis


End file.
